NGLISH  CATHEDRALS 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ENGLISH    CATHEDRALS 


ST.    PAUL'S,  FROM   CHKAI  ;~lli| 


^V'^S' 


ENGLISH    CATHEDRALS 


CANTERBURY ■ PETERBOROUGH     DURHAM 

SALISBURY  •  LICHFIELD  ■  LINCOLN  ■  ELY  •  WELLS 

WINCHESTER  •  GLOUCESTER  ■  YORK  •  LONDON 

BY 

Mrs.  SCHUYLER   VAN    RENSSELAER 

AUTHOR    OF    "HENRY    HOBSON     RICHARDSON    AND    HIS    WORKS"     "SIX    PORTRAITS"    ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED 
WITH   ONE  HUNDRED   AND   FIFTY-FOUR  DRAWINGS  BY 

JOSEPH    PENNELL 

ALSO  WITH   PLANS  AND  DIAGRAMS 


"All  which  may  be  more  clearly  and  plecisa)itlj>  seen  b_y  the  eves 
than  taught  in  writing ;  but  this  much  was  said  that  the  differ- 
ence between  the  old  and  new  work  might  be  made  manifest." 
Ger'vase  :     On    the   Burning   and  Repair    of   the  Church    of  Canterbury, 


i'ourtb  '<2Dicmn,  Oi'tiisct)  and  iCorrErttO. 


Hixit^r^iMMfstA't 


NEW   YORK:    THE    CENTURY    CO. 

1902 


coi'vkight,  1887,  1s88,  1889,  1s90,  1892, 
By  Thk  Century  Co. 


Tme  Devinne  Prc»s. 


TO 

THE    MEMORY    OF    MY    FATHER 

GEORGE    GRISWOLD 

IN    WHOSE    COMPANY    I    FIRST    SAW  THE    BUILDINGS 

OF    THE   OLD  WORLD 


629773 


INTRODUCTION 

Some  years  ago  I  was  asked  to  write  descriptions  of  twelve  of  the 
English  cathedrals  for  "The  Century  Magazine,"  and  was  promised 
the  invaluable  help  of  Mr.  Pennell's  drawings.  A  summer  in  Eng- 
land was  the  immediate  result,  and  the  final  result  is  this  book,  the 
text  of  which,  although  not  much  extended,  has  been  largely  re- 
written since  the  chapters  severally  appeared  in  the  magazine.  This 
revision,  forced  upon  my  conscience  by  a  wider  acquaintance  with 
French  architecture  than  I  previously  possessed,  has,  I  believe,  made 
the  critical  passages  more  instructive,  and  increased  the  trustworthi- 
ness of  my  estimate  of  English  mediaeval  architecture  as  a  whole. 
France  —  as  I  always  knew,  but  never  thoroughly  realized  until  I 
traveled  through  all  its  provinces  three  years  ago  —  held  the  cradle 
of  Gothic  art,  and  nursed  it  to  its  fullest  stature  and  noblest  strength; 
and  no  account  of  the  Gothic  styles  of  any  other  land  can  be  clear 
or  just  which  does  not  constantly  keep  in  the  reader's  mind  French 
aims,  expedients,  and  achievements. 

An  amateur  myself  I  need  hardly  confess  that  this  is  a  book  for 
amateurs,  not  for  architects.  It  is  for  those  who  love,  rather  than 
for  those  who  want  to  study,  architecture.  Yet  I  have  tried  to  make 
it  a  book  such  as  architects  would  be  willing  to  put  into  the  hands 
of  ienorance.  That  is,  while  dealing  only  with  those  broad,  obvious, 
and  chiefly  aesthetic  aspects  of  the  art  which  can  be  made  plain  to 
any  eye,  however  unversed  in  structural  science,  I  have  tried  to  show, 
keeping  as  far  as  possible  from  technical  language,  that,  in  archi- 
tecture, the  aesthetic  is  based  upon  the  practical  ideal ;  that  we  cannot 
appraise  the  one  without  understanding  the  character  of  the  other, 
at  least  in  a  rudimentary  way:  that  we  cannot  ask  Jl'/iaf ?  in  pres- 


X  Intyoiiiictioii. 

ence  of  any  architectural  feature  or  general  effect  without  also  ask- 
ing Why .' ;  and  that,  if  an  effect  or  feature  is  to  please  a  cultivated 
taste,  it  must  give  a  good  account  of  itself  to  a  reasoning  mind.  We 
have  had  many  books  about  English  mediaeval  architecture  written 
for  professed  students,  many  handbooks  concerned  simply  with  local 
matters  of  fact,  and  many  charming  accounts  of  the  impression  which 
beautiful  buildings  made  upon  eyes  that  did  not  stop  to  analyze 
either  their  architectural  peculiarities  or  their  historical  affinities.  I 
have  tried  to  do  something  a  little  different.  My  book  is  meant  for 
the  untraveled  unprofessional  American  who  wants  to  understand  in 
a  general  way  why  the  great  churches  of  the  Old  Country  deserve 
to  be  admired,  and  for  his  traveled  brother  who  wants  to  realize 
a  little  better  why  he  himself  admired  them.  It  is  not  a  history  of 
English  architecture,  and  it  is  not  a  full  and  faithful  picture  of  the 
churches  it  professes  to  describe.  It  is  simply  a  sketch  of  English 
cathedral-building,  based  upon  such  evidence  as  twelve  typical  ex- 
amples could  supply.  But  I  have  tried  to  make  it  an  architectural 
rather  than  a  pictorial  sketch ;  and  I  hope  it  may  awaken,  in  the 
audience  to  which  I  appeal,  the  feeling  that  architecture  is  extremely 
interesting,  not  only  as  a  record  of  changing  aesthetic  moods,  but 
also  as  one  of  the  truest  records  of  the  general  development  of 
human  intelligence,  and  of  the  general  course  of  national  and  inter- 
national history. 

It  was  not  an  easy  task  to  select  the  twelve  cathedrals  which 
would  best  enable  me  to  make  plain  the  story  that  I  wished  to  sketch. 
It  is  true  that  no  marked  provincial  manners  of  building  complicated 
the  question  in  England  as  they  would  have  done  in  France,  where, 
in  passing  from  district  to  district,  architectural  history  must  be 
studied  afresh  from  the  beginning.  Yet  the  English  cathedrals  pre- 
sent varied  pictures  when  they  are  contrasted  with  each  other,  and 
also  when  the  different  parts  of  one  are  compared  among  themselves. 
During  the  long  mediaeval  period,  partial  rebuilding  was  practised 
in  England  much  more  constantly  than  in  other  lands.  No  English 
cathedral  remains   intact   as  built    by  any   single   generation   of  men 


Introduction.  xi 

except  the  Renaissance  cathedral  of  St.  Paul  in  London.  No  other 
is  throughout  in  the  same  style;  many  of  them  show  major  parts 
of  the  most  striking  dissimilarity  ;  and  there  are  some  which  it  is 
impossible  to  credit  chiefly  to  any  special  epoch.  Thus  I  could  not 
simply  take  up  one  church  after  another,  and  use  each  to  illus- 
trate a  certain  phase  of  mediaeval  art.  Sometimes,  as  'with  Salisbury, 
I  could  find  one  which,  in  almost  all  its  parts,  represents  such  a 
phase.  But  even  the  witness  of  Salisbury  had  to  be  collated  with 
that  of  other  Lancet-Pointed  structures;  and  sometimes  one  or  two 
conspicuous  parts  of  a  cathedral,  rather  than  its  aspect  as  a  whole, 
dictated  its  selection.  This  means,  of  course,  that  I  have  always 
been  forced  to  describe  a  style  by  speaking  first  of  a  portion  of  one 
church  and  then  of  a  portion  of  another,  and  usually  to  describe  a 
church  by  touching  upon  several  styles.  This  was  the  only  method 
by  means  of  which  I  could  trace  the  thread  of  English  architectural 
history  from  its  beginning  in  the  hands  of  the  Normans  to  its  end- 
ing in  the  hands  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren.  And  therefore,  in  spite 
of  their  nominally  independent  character,  my  chapters  are  not  well- 
rounded  monographs.  None  of  them  will  seem  quite  clear  unless 
the  preceding  ones  have  been  read,  and  some  of  them  will  seem 
very  incomplete  indeed  until  later  ones  assist  their  words.  More- 
over, in  writing  for  the  magazine,  it  was  needful  to  keep  my  chapters 
of  about  equal  length  ;  thus,  all  desirable  explanations  could  not  be 
given  at  the  first  desirable  moment;  and,  in  revising  the  book,  I 
found  I  could  not  alter  the  original  arrangement  without  making 
quite  a  different  book. 

Another  question  increased  the  difficulty  of  my  first  choice.  Had 
I  thought  only  of  the  stones  of  England's  cathedrals,  and  not  at  all 
of  their  written  records,  I  could  not  even  have  hinted  at  the  whole 
of  their  significance.  Architectural  interest  preponderates  upon  one 
cathedral  site,  historical  interest  on  another ;  and  both  had  to  be 
weighed  together  before  my  selection  could  be  made.  The  cathe- 
drals of  Canterbury,  Peterborough,  and  Durham,  Salisbury  and  Lich- 
field, Lincoln,  Ely,  and  Wells,  Winchester,  Gloucester,  York,  and  London, 


xii  Introductiou. 

were  chosen  partly  because  of  their  typical  importance  as  buildings, 
and  partly  because  of  the  length  and  richness  of  their  lives  as  cathe- 
dral  buildings. 

Yet  this  list  includes  almost  all  the  Encrlish  cathedrals  of  hiirhest 
architectural  rank.  St.  Albans,  Norwich,  and  Exeter  are  the  others 
which  most  loudly  cried  for  mention.  Hut  St.  Albans  has  no  cathe- 
dral record  at  all  —  it  was  raised  to  cathedral  dignity  only  a  few 
years  ago;  and  Norwich,  architecturally,  is  close  akin  to  Peterborough 
and  Kly,  neither  of  which  could  possibly  be  left  out ;  so  it  is  only 
Exeter  Cathedral  whose  voice  sounds  very  reproachfully  in  my  ears. 
This,  I  confess,  found  no  place  simply  because  the  available  places 
were  only  twelve.  Hut  1  liasten  to  add  that  my  decision  to  exclude 
Exeter  rather  than  any  of  the  present  twelve  was  approved  by  so 
competent  a  judge  as  Professor  Freeman.  As  he  said  that  a  better 
list  of  twelve  cathedrals  than  ours  could  not  be  compiled,  I  hope  my 
readers  will  be  content  with  the  road  I  have  taken  to  sketch  for 
them  the  development  of  English  architecture  and  the  importance 
of  English  cathedral  establishments. 

A  word  now  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word  cathedral,  which  may 
not  be  perfectly  plain  to  all  American  ears. 

This  term  is  not  a  synonym  for  a  church  of  the  first  architectural 
importance,  or  for  the  most  important  church  in  an  important  town. 
Architecture  has  really  nothing  to  do  with  it,  nor  have  municipal  con- 
ditions; and  it  is  an  adjective  etymologically,  a  noun  only  by  virtue 
of  long  usage.  A  cathedral  church  is  a  church,  large  or  small,  old 
or  new,  which  holds  a  bishop's  chair, — his  cathedra, — and  is  thus  the 
ecclesiastical  centre  of  a  diocese.  With  the  setting  up  of  this  chair 
the  title  comes,  with  its  removal  the  title  goes  ;  there  is  no  other 
cause  or  definition  of  it. 

Of  course  men  always  felt  that  architectural  splendor  should  ex- 
press and  enhance  ecclesiastical  rank  ;  yet  the  mere  abbey  or  colle- 
giate church  often  equaled  the  cathedral  church  in  all  except  dignity 
of  name  and  service.  Sometimes  such  a  church  was  raised  to  cathe- 
dral  rank   at  a  day  long  subsequent  to   its  erection.     Sometimes  it 


Introduction.  xiii 

was  shattered  into  fragments  by  that  hammer,  called  "Reform,"  with 
which  the  sixteenth  century  warred  against  monasticism.  And  some- 
times it  has  remained  intact  to  our  own  day  as  a  non-episcopal, 
non-monastic  temple. 

Amone  the  churches  of  this  last-named  class  a  few  are  architec- 
turally  the  peers  of  the  cathedrals;  and  one  of  them — Westminster 
Abbey — is  perhaps  the  finest  church  in  all  England.  But  a  cathe- 
dral has  an  historical  significance  which  even  Westminster  lacks;  or, 
more  truly,  the  historical  significance  of  Westminster  is  different  from 
that  of  the  cathedrals.  And  I  am  the  more  content  to  have  had  my 
examples  confined  to  the  cathedrals  as  the  design  of  Westminster 
is  semi-French,  not  typically  English. 

If,  as  I  hope,  this  book  gives  some  readers  their  first  knowledge 
of  medieeval  architecture,  they  may  wish  to  know  how  such  know- 
ledge can  best  be  increased.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  no  architec- 
tural history  which  has  been  written  in  English  seems  to  me  broad 
and  fair  enough  in  its  point  of  view  —  impartially  international  enough 
—  for  the  right  instruction  of  transatlantic  students.  An  inspirit- 
ing account  of  Norman  architecture  may  be  found  in  Vol.  \'  of 
Freeman's  "History  of  the  Norman  Conquest";  and  such  a  general 
history  as  we  desire  might  well  have  been  written  by  Freeman  in 
his  later  years.  But  the  one  that  he  did  write  dates  from  his  under- 
graduate years,  when  he  had  never  been  out  of  his  own  country; 
and  while  it  has  great  interest  for  those  who  can  test  and  appraise 
its  statements,  it  is  valuable  to  the  beginner  chiefly  as  laying  stress 
upon  the  historically  interpretative  character  of  architectural  develop- 
ments. The  most  popular  of  all  general  histories,  Fergusson's,  is 
precious  for  its  pictures ;  but  its  text  is  often  as  eccentric  in  judg- 
ment as  misleadinof  with  res^ard  to  matters  of  fact.  Liibke's  "His- 
tory,"  too,  is  neither  rightly  philosophical  in  mood  nor  always  reliable 
in  statement.  And  as  it  is  with  general  histories  of  architecture, 
so  it  is  with  treatises  on  mediaeval  architecture,  and  so  it  is  with 
treatises  on  English  architecture. 

In  short,  I  know  of  only  one  book  in  the  English  language  which  to 


xiv  hitrodnction. 

me  seems  really  good  for  beginners'  use.  This  is  an  American  book 
—  Charles  11.  Moore's  "Development  and  Characteristics  of  Gothic 
Architecture. "  We  may  object  to  the  narrow  significance  which  Mr. 
Moore  constantly  gives  to  the  term  "  Gothic,"  feeling  that  he  might 
better  have  used,  instead,  some  term  like  "the  best  Gothic  "  or 
"complete  Gothic."  But,  nevertheless,  his  volume  is  a  wonderfully 
good  brief  exposition  of  the  fundamental  characteristics  of  the 
mediaeval  styles ;  and  almost  all  that  it  tells  us  of  their  comparative 
excellence  in  different  lands  is  true.  If  a  reader  has  mastered  this 
book,  and  especially  if  he  has  also  made  acquaintance  with  the 
principal  articles  in  ViolIet-le-Duc's  great  "  Dictionnaire  raisonne  de 
I'architecture,"  and  with  some  such  consecutive  historical  treatise  as 
Chateau's  "  Histoirc  et  caracteres  de  I'architecture  en  France,"  he  will 
be  in  a  position  to  profit  by  the  information  contained  in  English 
works,  without  suffering  from  their  insular  points  of  view.  But  before 
Mr.  Moore  wrote  I  could  not  have  pointed  to  a  really  "safe"  book 
in  our  language  upon  mediaeval  art,  while,  good  as  French  books 
are  with  retjard  to  French  architecture,  and  therefore  with  reeard 
to  the  noblest  mediaeval  developments,  they  give  scarcely  a  side- 
glance  of  attention  to  English  developments. 

Even  Mr.  Moore's  book  only  touches  upon  English  developments 
in  subsidiary  fashion;  and,  moreover,  it  is  not  a  history  but  an  analyti- 
cal sketch.  A  complete  and  impartial  histor)-  of  Romanesque  and 
Gothic  art  still  remains  to  be  written ;  and,  I  believe,  no  one  but  an 
American  will  ever  write  it.  National  prejudices  seem  phenome- 
nally strong  when  architecture  is  in  question  —  a  proof  of  its  intimate 
connection  with  national  life  and  national  temperaments.  But  we 
Americans  have  no  inborn  ineradicable  preference  for  any  given  form 
of  mediaeval  art,  no  innate  instinct  to  defend,  against  all  aggressors, 
the  fame  of  any  local  development.  As  Mr.  Moore's  is  the  first  good 
sketch  of  Gothic  aims  and  results  that  has  been  written  in  the  Eng- 
lish language,  so  one  of  his  countrymen  may  be  expected  to  write 
the  first  good  general  history  of  mediaeval  architecture.  May  its 
coming  not  be  long  deferred ! 


Intyodiiction.  xv 

As  regards  particularly  the  English  cathedrals,  I  am  glad  to  con- 
fess my  own  great  indebtedness  to  Murray's  "  Handbooks,"  and  to 
say  that  they  are  indispensable  to  the  tourist.  Compiled  by  differ- 
ent hands,  they  vary  somewhat  in  excellence;  and  they  are  simply 
descriptive  of  local  facts,  not  critical  or  broadly  historical.  But  they 
point  out  facts  with  regard  to  the  structure  of  the  cathedrals  not 
easily  to  be  learned  elsewhere ;  they  give  the  salient  points  of  local 
history ;  and  they  include  instructive  biographical  lists  of  bishops  and 
other  local  dignitaries.  All  the  other  good  monographs  which  1  have 
been  able  to  find  relating  to  the  cathedrals  on  my  list  are  noted  at 
the  beginning  of  the  respective  chapters. 

M.  G.  VAN  RENSSELAER. 

Marion,  Massachusetts, 
August,  1892. 


Since  the  first  edition  of  this  book  was  issued  I  have  again  carefully 
revised  it  in  every  part,  paying  due  attention  to  all  the  published 
criticisms  which  I  have  seen,  and  submitting  various  doubtful  points 
to  the  trained  judgment  of  a  w^ell-known  professor  of  architectural 
history.  Thus,  I  think,  the  book  has  again  been  considerably  im- 
proved ;  and  this  is  especially  true  of  the  brief  sketch  of  the  de- 
velopment of  Gothic  vaulting,  now  transferred  from  Chapter  XI  to 
Chapter  1. 


M.  G.  VAN  RENSSELAER. 


Lake  Placid,  New  York, 
August,  1893. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I 


PAGE 


The  Cathedral  Churches  of  England     i 

CHAPTER   II 
The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury 28 

CHAPTER   III 
The    Cathedral    of    St.   Peter,    St.   Paul,   and   St.   Andrew, 

Peterborough 60 

CHAPTER    IV 
The  Cathedral  of  St.  Cuthbert,  Durha.m 83 

CHAPTER   V 
The  C.\thedral  of  St.  Mary,  Salisbury 113 

CHAPTER    VI 
The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield    ...       140 

CHAPTER   VII 
The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary,  Lincoln 165 

CHAPTER   VIII 
The  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter,  Ely  .     .     .       194 

xvii 


PACE 


\viii  Coi/fcilfs. 

CHAPTER    IX 
The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew,  Wells 227 

CHAPTER   X 
The  Cathedral  ov  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  Wlnchester      .     .      261 

CHAPTER    XI 
The  Cathedral  ok  St.  Peter,  Glolxester 298 

CHAPTER    XII 
The  Cathedral  ok  St.  Peter,  York 329 

CHAPTER   XIII 
The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul,  London 362 


INDEX    OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


St.  Paul's,  from  Cheapside frontispiece 

Initial  "I."     (Transitional  Capital,  Galilee-chapel,  Durham.)       i 

Drawn  by  A.  Ra.n'Dolph  Ross. 

Plan  of  Norwich  Cathedrai 8 

Two  Bays  of  Choir,  Interior,  Peterborough  Cathedral     ...        8 

Drawn  by  E.  J.  Meeker. 

Central  Tower,  Norwich  Cathedral 9 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  H.\MLIN. 

Lancet-windows,  Chester  Cathedral lo 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  H.\MLIN. 

Clustered  Pier,  Worcester  Cathedral lo 

Drawn  by  J.  F.  RuNGE. 

Clustered  Pier,  Exeter  Cathedral n 

Drawn  by  J.  F.  RUNGE. 

Capital,  Wells  Cathedrai ii 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

One  Bay  of  the  "Angel  Choir,"  Interior,  Lincoln  Cathedral   .      13 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamux. 

Plate  Tracery.  Geometrical  Tracery,  Ripon  Cathedral  ...   13 
Flowing  Tracery,  Wells  Cathedral 14 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin. 

Perpendicular  Window,  West  Front,  Norwich  Cathedral    .    .      14 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin. 

French  Flamboyant  Tracery,  Rouen  Cathedral  14 

Drawn  by  E.  J.  MEEKER. 

Two  Bays  of  Nave,  Interior,  Winchester  Cathedral 15 

Drawn  by  E.  J.  Meeker. 


CANTERBURY   CATHEDRAL 
Initial  "C."     (Early  Gothic  Capital,  Choir  of  Canterbury.)  .      28 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ros.s. 

Canterbury,  from  the  Northeast 30 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  John  P.  Davis. 


U 


XIX 

* 


XX  Index  of  Ilhistmtions. 

PACB 

Canterbury,  from  the  West 31 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennelu 

Mercery  Lane 32 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pennell.     Engraved  by  R.  C.  Collins. 

Christ's  Church  Gateway,  from  Mercery  Lane 33 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

Canterbury,  from  the  Northwest ^s 

Drawn  by  Joseph   Pknnell. 

The  Cathedral,  from  Christ's  Church  Gateway 39 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennelu     Engraved  by  H.  K.  Sylvester. 

Plan  of  Canterbury  Cathedral 43 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Southwest,  at  Sunset 44 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  H.  E.  Whitney. 

Two  Bays  of  the  Choir 45 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin. 

Canterbury  C.-vthedral,  from  the  Riyer  Stour 47 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  Davidson. 

The  South  Side  of  the  Cathedral 50 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  East  End  of  the  Cathedral 51 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pknnell.     Engraved  by  A.  Gamm. 

The  Central  ("Bell  Harry")  Tower,  from  the  "Dark  Entry" 

in  the  Close 52 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

Norman  Stairway  in  the  Close     S3 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  "Green  Court"  in  the  Close  ...      54 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  K.  C.  Atwood. 

The  C.vthedral,  from  the  North 55 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  PENNELL. 

The  Central  Tower,  from  the  Northeast 58 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  G.  P.  Bartle. 

Lambeth  Palace,  London;  Residence  of  the  Archbishops  of 

Canterbury 59 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


PETERBOROUGH    CATHEDRAL 
Initial   "  T."     (Wheel-window,  West  Front  of  Peterborough.)    60 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

Plan  of  Peterborough  Cathedral 62 


Index  of  Illustrations.  xxi 


PAGE 


Two  Bats  of  the  Nave 65 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexnell.     Engraved  by  M.  J.  Whalev. 

Western  Towers  of  the  Cathedral,  from  the  Cloister     ...      68 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  F.  Jue.vgli.ng. 

The  West  Front,  and  Bishop's  Palace 71 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pe.vnell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The   C.A.THEDRAL,    FROM   THE   BiSHOP'S   GARDEN 73 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pen.vell.     Engraved  by  P.  .Aitke.n. 

The  North  Side  in  1885 74 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pe.nxell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  SyLVESTER. 

The  Gateway,  from  the  Main  Door  of  the  C.\thedral  ....      ^6 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pex.nell. 

Reconstructing  the  Tower,  1885,  from  the  Choir jj 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  A.  Ga.mm. 

The  Cathedral  in  1885,  from  the  South 79 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  Davidson. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Market-place 80 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


DURHAM    CATHEDRAL 
Durham  Cathedral,  from  the  Southwest 82 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  H.  Davidson. 

Initial  "F."  (Capital,  Galilee-chapel,  Durham  Cathedral.).    .      83 

Drawn  by  .\.  Randolph  Ross. 

The  Cathedral  and  the  Castle,  from  the  North 85 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  J.  H.  E.  Whitxev. 

Plan  of  Durham  Cathedral  and  Monastic  Buildings 86 

The  West  End  of  the  N.we,  from  the  North  Door 88 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  H.  Wolf. 

View  fro.m  the  Nave  into  the  North  Ar.m  of  the  Transept  .      91 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Nave,  from  the  North  Aisle 92 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

The  Galilee-chapel      95 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Southeast 97 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Northwest 99 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Penxell.     Engraved  by  F.  H.  Wellington. 

The  Bishop's  Throne 102 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


xxii  Index  of  Illnstmtions. 

PACK 

The  North  Side  of  the  Catheural,  from  Dun  Cow  Lane  ...     105 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pkn.neli.. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Xoktm 108 

Drawn  by  JosEl'll   I'KWF.I.I.. 

Durham,  from  the  Ram.koad  Siation 11 1 

Dr.iwn  by  Joseph  I'ennei.i..     Engraved  by  H.  K.  Syi.vksi  ek. 


SALISBURY   CATHKDRAL 

Lnitiai.  "A."     (Early  English  Base,  Tumii  in  S.\lisbury  Cathe- 
dral.)   113 

Drawn  by  .\.  Randolph  Ross. 

The  Si'Ire  of  Salisbury 116 

Drawn  by  Joseph  I'e.nnell.     Engraved  by  J.  H.  E.  Whitney. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Bishoi-'s  Garden 119 

Drawn  by  Joseph   1'ennell.     Engraved  by  R.  U.  ("OI.LINS. 

Saliskury  Cathedral,  from  the  Northeast 121 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Penn'ell.     Engraved  by  H.  F;.  Syi.vister. 

Northeast  Gateway  to  the  Close 122 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pennell. 

Plan  of  Salisbury  Cathedrai 123 

E.xterior  of  Triforium-window,  North  Ar.m  of  Transei't  ...     124 

Drawn  by  Joseph   Pe.nnei.l. 

Interior  of  Clearstory-\vindo\y,  North  Arm  of  Transept    .    .     125 

Drawn  by  Joseph  I'enneli.. 

The  Close  and  a  Part  ov  the  West  F"ront 127 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennei.l.     Engraved  by  J.  .\.  Nayi.or. 

One  Bay  of  the  Nave,  Cathedral  of  Amiens 130 

Drawn  by  Vloi.l.ET-LE-Duc. 

One  Bay  of  the  Nave,  Salisbury  Cathedral 131 

Drawn  by  .\.  D.  F.  Hamlin. 

The  Cloister 13- 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Bishop's  Palace 135 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pen.nell.     Engraved  by  O.  Navlor. 

A  Gateway  to  the  Close ' 137 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pe.nnell. 

The  Spire,  from  the  Avon '39 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


Index  of  lUiistyations.  xxiii 


LICHFIELD    CATHEDRAL 


PAGE 


Initial  "  F."    (Decorated   Wall-arcade,   Choir-aisle  of  Lich- 
field.)      140 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

Lichfield  Cathedral,  from  the  East 141 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pe.nxell.     Engraved  by  H.  Wolf. 

The  Spires  by  Moonlight 144 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pe.nxell.     Engraved  by  Robert  Hoskln. 

Plan  of  Lichfield  Cathedral 146 

Scheme  of  the  Nave 147 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  H.^MLIX. 

The  Nave  and  the  West  End,  from  within  the  Choir,  Show- 
ing Decorated  Window 149 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

W.\tching  Gallery  over  the  Sacristy  Door 152 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pex.xell.     Engraved  by  M.  Joxes. 

Scheme  of  the  Choir,  Showing  Decorated  Traceries 153 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamlix. 

The  Lady-chapel,  from  the  High  Altar 154 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

The  Spires  of  Lichfield,  from  the  Southwest 156 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  K.  C.  Atwood. 

The  South  Side  of  the  Cathedral 158 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  .A.  Ga.mm. 

Doorway  in  the  North  Transept-arm 159 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

The  West  Front 160 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

The  Central  Doorw'ay,  West  Front 161 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  A.  Ga.mm. 


LINCOLN    CATHEDRAL 
Initial  "N."     (Early  English  Capital,  Choir  of  Lincoln.)  165 

Drawn  by  .A.  RaXDOLPH  RoSS. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Pool 166 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell.     Engraved  by  J.  H.  E.  Whitxey. 

The  Exchequer  Gate  and  the  West  Front  of  the  Cathedral  168 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pexxell. 

The  West  Front,  from  the  Minster-yard 169 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pexnell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 


xxiv  Index  of  Illitstyations. 


PACK 


Plan  ok  Lincoln  Cathedral 171 

The  Caon^-sTALLs,  Looking  West 174 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

One  Bay  of  the  Angel  Choir 179 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennf.li.. 

The  Central  Towek  and  Galilee-pokch 182 

Drawn  by  Joseph  PEaVNELL. 

The  Southeast  Porch 184 

Drawn  by  JosKPii  Pknneli.. 

The  East  End  and  the  Chapter-house 185 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Svlvksikr. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  High  Street 187 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  Wolf. 

On  the  Banks  of  the  Witham 190 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  South  Side  of  the  Cathedral 192 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


ELY   CATHEDRAL 

Initial  "L"     (Early   I-:nglish   Clearstory-window,  Retrochoir 

OF  Ely.) 194 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

Ely  Cathedral  —  Across  the  Fens .    .     195 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennkll.     Engraved  by  R.  C.  Collins. 

The  West  Front  of  the  Cathedral  and  the  Bishop's  P.m.ace  .     196 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pf.nnell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Ouse ....     199 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  H.  E.  Whitney. 

Scheme  of  the  Presbytery  and  Retrochoir     202 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamlin. 

Plan  of  Ely  Cathedral 205 

The  Lantern,  fro.m  the  Northeast .    206 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennei  l. 

Scheme  of  the  Choir 209 

Drawn  by  A.  D.  F.  Hamun. 

Ely,  from  the  South 213 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  Ijy  J.  H.  K.  Whitney. 

Cathedral  and  Spire  of  St.  Mary's  Church,  from  the  Southwest    216 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Cathedral  and  the  Lady-chapel,  from  the  Southeast  .    .    221 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


Index  of  Illustrations.  xxv 


PAGE 


Southwestern  Part  of  the  Cathedral,  from  a  Garden  in  the 

Close 222 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  South 223 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

Ely,  from  under  the  Railway  Bridge 226 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  PENNELL. 


WELLS    CATHEDRAL 
Initial  "W."     (Boss,  Ceiling  of  Lady-chapel,  Wells.) 227 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

Wells,  from  the  Northeast 228 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  Wolf. 

The  Moat 229 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  G.  P.  Bartle. 

Wells,  from  the  South 231 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  F.  H.  Wellington. 

Plan  of  the  Cathedral  Church 232 

The  Nave,  from  the  North  Aisle 236 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  N.\ve,  Looking  East 239 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  H.  E.  Whitney. 

The  Choir,  Looking  East 240 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Retrochoir  and  Lady-chapel 243 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Chapter-house,  Wells 247 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pen.nell. 

The  West  Front  of  the  Cathedral 249 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Cathedral,  from  Tor  Hill      252 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  East  End  of  the  Cathedral,  from  the  Garden 253 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Bishop's  Palace 255 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Vicar's  Close 256 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  W.  H.  Morse. 

The  Entrance  to  the  Bishop's  Palace 259 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


xxvi  Index  of  Illiistrafions. 


WINCHESTER   CATHEDRAL 


PACK 


WlNXHESTER,    FROM   THE   EASTERN    HiLLS 260 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pf.xnei.l.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

iMTiAL  ••  W."     (Fragment  of  Early  English  Work.) 261 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Fields 265 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Penxell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

Plan  of  Winchester  Cathedrai 266 

In  the  South  Aisle  of  the  Choir,  Looking  West 268 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  F.  Jingling. 

Diagram  showing  Wvkeham's  Transform.\tion  of  the  Nave     .    269 
The  Choir  and  Presbytery,  Looking  East 271 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  A.  Naylor. 

In  the  Retrochoir 273 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  O.  N.\ylor. 

In  THE  Retrochoir,  Looking  East     275 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  M.  J.  Wiulky. 

The  Nave  and  Transept,  from  the  Northwest 278 

Drawn  t)y  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  II.  E.  Sylvester. 

Winchester  High  Cross,  at  the  Entrance  to  the  Close   .    .    .    283 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

A  Gateway  in  the  Close 286 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  M.  Jones. 

In  the  Close 289 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pen.vell. 

The  Long  Walk  in  Summer 290 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  C.  J.  W'addell. 

The  West  Front 293 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  K.  C.  Atwood. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Southeast 294 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Lon(;  Walk  in  Winter 296 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Deanery 297 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  E.  H.  New.man. 


GLOUCESTER    CATHEDRAL 

Initial  "A."   (The  "White  Hart,"  Badge  of  i:dward  II.,  from 

his  Tomb.)     298 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 


Index  of  Illnstyations.  xxvii 


PAGE 


The  Cathedral,  from  the  Docks 299 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pe.nnell. 

Gloucester,  from  the  Severn 301 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  Charles  State. 

South  Porch 303 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Nave,  Looking  toward  the  Choir 306 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH   Pennell.     Engraved  by  R.  C.  Collins. 

The  South  Aisle  of  the  Nave,  Looking  East  into  the  Transept    308 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Nave,  from  the  North  Aisle 309 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

Plan  of  Gloucester  Cathedral     310 

St.  Paul's  Chapel,  North  Arm  of  Transept 311 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  George  H.  Whittle. 

The  Choir  and  Presbytery,  Looking  East 313 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  Naylor. 

North  Aisle  of  the  Nave,  Looking  East  into  the  Transept  .    .    314 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  South  Aisle  of  the  Nave,  Looking  West  from  the  Transept    317 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  R.  C.  Collins. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  Southeast.  (From  the  Tower  of  St. 

John's  Church.) 318 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Lady-chapel,  Looking  toward  the  Church 321 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  M.  Jones. 

The  North  Walk  of  the  Cloister,  with  the  Lav.\tory     .    .    .    323 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  T.  Schissler. 

The  C.\thedral,  from  the  Northwest.   (From  the  Tower  of  St. 

Mary  de  Lode.) 325 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Cathedral,  from  the  North 327 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


YORK    CATHEDRAL 

Initial  "A."     (Early  English  Capital,  from   the  Transept  of 

York  Cathedral.)      329 

Drawn  by  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

York  Minster,  from  the  North     33' 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

Plan  of  York  Cathedral 333 


xxviii  Imiex  of  ////isfrafioiis. 

rACE 

The  West  Front 334 

Drawn  by  Joseph  I'ennei.l.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  South  Transept-end   and  the  Central  Tower,  irom  the 

Stonegate 336 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  \V.  H.  Morse. 

The  Five  Sisters,  from  the  S(u;th  Transept  Entrance   ....    337 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pen.nell.     Engraved  by  C.  .\.  Powell. 

The  North  Transept-arm,  from  the  Nave 339 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  Nave,  from  the  North  Aisle 342 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pk.nnell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Choir-screen 344 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  South  Aisle  of  the  Presbytery,  Lookinc;  West 345 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pennell. 

The  East  End,  from  the  North  Aisle  of  the  Retrochoir   .    .    347 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  South  Side  of  the  Minster 350 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

The  East  End  at  Night 356 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  F.  \V.  Sutherland. 

The   Chapter-house,   Five   Sisters,  and   Central  Tower,  from 

the  North 357 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 


ST.  PAUL'S    CATHEDRAL 
The  West  Front  of  St.  Paul's,  from  Fleet  Street 361 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  W.  H.  Morse. 

Initial  "  I."     (The   Dome  of  St.  Paul's,  from  the  first  design 

of  Sir  Christopher  Wren.) ■  .    362 

Drawn  l)y  A.  Randolph  Ross. 

Old  St.  Paul's,  from  the   Southwest 365 

Drawn  by  W.  J.  Baer. 

Paul's  Cross,  from  an  Old  Print 366 

Drawn  by  \V.  J.  P.AER. 

The  Dome,  from  Paul's  Wharf  Pier      37' 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell. 

Plan  of  St.  Paul's  as  first  Designed  by  Wren 374 

Plan  of  St.  Paul's 376 

The  West  Door 378 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  W.  H.  MoRSE. 


Index  of  Illustrations.  xxix 

PACE 

The  North  Aisle  of  the  Nave 379 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  J.  W.  Evans. 

Section  showing  Inner  and  Outer  Domes,  with  the  Intermediate 

Cone  of  Brick .    .    382 

The   Dome,  from  the  River 385 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pennell. 

The  Interior  of  St.  Paul's,  looking  from  the  Nave  into  the 

Choir 387 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pr.vnell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Western  Aisle  of  Transept 388 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  C.  A.  Powell. 

The  West  Front  of  St.  Paul's,  from  Ludgate  Hill 390 

Drawn  by  JOSEPH  Pennell.     Engraved  by  \V.  H.  Morse. 

The  Font 392 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  Allen  Irwin. 

St.  Paul's,  from  Waterloo  Bridge  — A  Foggy  Morning 394 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  H.  E.  Sylvester. 

The  Choir,  Looking  East 396 

Drawn  by  Joseph  Pennell.     Engraved  by  K.  C.  Atwoqd. 


For  the  illustrarions  "Two  Bays  of  Choir,  Peterborough  Cathedral" 
(page  8),  and  "Two  Bays  of  Nave,  Winchester  Cathedral"  (page  15),  we 
are  indebted  to  Sharpe's  "  Seven  Periods  of  English  Architecture,"  and 
for  the  illustration  "  White  Hart,"  Badge  of  Edward  II.  (page  298),  to 
"  Records  of  Gloucester  Cathedral." 


ENGLISH    CATHEDRALS 


Chapter  I 


THE  CATHEDRAL  CHURCHES  OF  ENGLAND 


N  no  country  should  the  ecclesiastical  importance 
of  a  church  be  confounded  with  the  civic  im- 
portance of  its  site.  In  Continental  countries, 
indeed,  the  chair  of  a  bishop  or  archbishop  was 
always  set  in  some  local  centre  of  secular 
power,  and  often  secular  as  well  as  ecclesiastic 
authority  was  intrusted  to  him.  But  even  there 
the  two  kinds  of  dignity  —  episcopal  and  muni- 
cipal—  were  theoretically  distinct,  and  in  England  there  was  seldom  a 
close  connection  between  them.  In  England  we  must  be  very  careful 
not  to  picture  a  cathedral  church  as  standing,  of  necessity,  in  a  town 
which  has  at  any  time  been  great;  and  this  fact  is  extremely  interest- 
ing, for,  after  a  lapse  of  many  centuries,  it  illustrates  the  two  most  im- 
portant chapters  in  English  history.  It  shows  how  the  English  people 
possessed  themselves  of  the  land  of  Britain,  and  how  the  Christian  faith 
was  established  among  them. 


The  earliest  island  Church,  of  course,  had  not  a  drop  of  English  blood 
in  its  veins.  It  was  British  and  Roman  in  a  union  whose  elements  we 
cannot  now  definitely  balance.  When  the  Romans  went  and  the  Eng- 
lish came  (those  Jutes  and  Saxons  and  Angles  whom  we  usually  call  the 
Anglo-Saxons),  their  heathen  triumph  swept  Briton  and  Church  away 
together — not  wholly  out  of  the  island  world,  but  out  of  most  of  those 
districts  which  now  form  England  proper.      Sparks  of  Christianity  may 


2  English  Cathcdmls. 

have  lingered  here,  dimmed,  confused  and  scarce  perceived  amid  Brit- 
ish serfs  and  bondwomen,  but  a  Christian  Church  persisted  only  in  Ire- 
land and  in  those  portions  of  the  larger  isle  which  lay  beyond  the 
conquered  north  or  bordered  on  the  western  sea. 

Later  on,  this  elder  Church  threw  out  fresh  shoots  and  played  a  dis- 
tinct part  in  the  reevangelizing  of  tlic  land.  But  the  main  influence 
toward  this  result,  the  stock  which  budded  first  when  the  lain!  was  a 
land  of  Englishmen,  and  afterward  absorbed  and  assimilated  all  the 
potency  of  the  ancient  sap,  came  at  the  end  of  the  sixth  century  direct 
from  Rome,  sent  by  Pope  Gregory  the  Great  and  brought  bj-  St.  Augus- 
tine and  his  forty  monkish  missionaries. 

In  the  constructive  times  which  were  then  befjinninir  the  state  of 
England  was  very  different  from  the  state  of  Gaul,  or  Italy,  or  the  Rhine 
provinces  at  the  time  when  their  Churches  had  been  given  coherence  of 
form  and  fixity  of  feature.  The  destruction  of  Roman  or  semi-Roman 
civilization  —  wreck  ami  ruin  unparalleled  elsewhere — liad  meant  the 
disappearance  of  all  but  a  few  of  the  largest  towns  and  the  establish- 
ment of  a  number  of  petty  rulers  who  were  merely  rulers  of  tribes,  and, 
far  from  basing  their  authority  on  preexisting  civic  authority,  often  had 
not  an  even  nominal  capital. 

So  when  English  bishoprics  were  laid  out'  the  first  thing  considered 
was  the  demarcations  of  these  tribal  settlements,  the  limits  of  the  little 
kingdoms  into  which  the  land  had  been  divided.  In  accordance  with 
political  boundaries  diocesan  boundaries  were  established,  and  then  the 
best  spot  was  chosen  for  the  planting  of  the  bishop's  chair.  Sometimes 
the  choice  fell  naturally  upon  one  of  the  few  remaining  ancient  burghs, 
as  on  London  or  on  York,  but  sometimes  it  fell  upon  a  town,  like  Can- 
terbury, which  had  never  been  very  conspicuous,  or  upon  an  isolated 
foundation  which  missionary  hands  had  set  and  watered  in  the  wilderness. 

Of  course  the  voice  of  time  did  not  everywhere  indorse  the  early 
arrangement.  With  changing  conditions  came  many  changes  of  cathe- 
dral station.  Certain  southern  sees,  defenseless  in  their  rural  solitude 
against  the  Danish  devastator,  were  shifted  to  more  easily  protected 
spots ;  and  when  the  Norman  conqueror  lifted  his  strong  hand,  the 
Church  of  England  proved  as  plastic  as  the  State  beneath  it.  Yet 
many  of  the  cathedrals  still  stand  where  they  stood  at  first,  and  the 
aspect  of  all,  when  collectively  considered,  is  extremely  characteristic. 

It  is  totally  unlike  the  general  aspect  of  the  cathedral  churches  of 

1  Theodore  of  T.-irsus,  as  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  'lid  much  of  this  work  in 
the  later  years  of  the  seventh  century. 


Cathedral  Churches  of  England.  3 

Continental  lands  where  a  multitude  of  cities  had  ruled  encircling  dis- 
tricts for  centuries  before  Christianity  was  preached.  There  it  was 
first  preached  to  these  cities,  first  accepted  by  their  indwellers ;  and 
they  naturally  added  the  new  ecclesiastic  to  the  old  temporal  suprem- 
acy. French  dioceses  still  follow  the  lines  of  Roman  districts,  and 
their  present  cathedral  towns  are  the  old  Roman  centres.  In  the 
origin  of  the  word  "pagan"  we  read  the  history  of  the  evangelizing  of 
the  Continent,  but  it  is  a  word  which  could  never  have  been  evolved  in 
England.  Here  there  were  no  great  municipal  centres  of  authority, 
neither  in  the  earliest  English  times  nor  at  any  later  day.  The  land 
was  long  divided,  but  it  was  not  split  up  between  rival  towns.  It  has 
often  been  torn  asunder  since,  but  no  part  has  ever  been  the  prize  of 
civic  duels.  And  these  facts,  with  their  still  persisting  influence  upon 
English  life  and  sentiment,  speak  very  clearly  from  the  cathedral 
churches.  The  Conqueror  tried  hard  to  bring  about  a  state  of  things 
more  like  the  one  he  knew  at  home,  and  even  England  has  not  been 
unaffected  by  the  general  modern  impulse  toward  centralization  of  all 
kinds  of  power.  Yet  many  episcopal  chairs  still  stand  where  the  early 
missionaries  put  them ;  and  though  one  of  the  new  bishops  of  our  day 
is  at  home  in  the  large  modern  town  of  Manchester,  he  has  still  younger 
brothers  at  Southwell  and  St.  Albans — two  spots  where,  to  Continen- 
tal eyes,  nothing  but  the  great  church  itself  can  seem  to  deserve  the 
cathedral  name. 

Thus  the  cathedrals  of  England  show  not  only  a  general  unlikeness 
to  their  foreign  rivals,  but  also  a  delightful  diversity  among  themselves. 
Now  we  find  the  great  fanes  of  London,  Lincoln,  and  York  standing 
in  towns  which  were  notable  at  the  dawn  of  history.  Again,  as  beneath 
the  towers  of  Durham,  we  see  a  town  which  has  considerable  size  and 
independent  importance,  but  which  owed  its  origin  to  the  setting  up  of 
its  cathedra  and  still  visibly  confesses  the  debt.  And  yet  again  there 
are  cathedral  cities^ — Wells  and  Ely  are  the  extreme  examples  —  which 
are  but  little  parasitical  growths  around  the  base  of  the  church,  living 
only,  even  in  these  latter  days,  because  the  church  is  itself  alive. 

The  most  clearly  and  typically  expressive  of  English  cathedrals  do 
not  hold  a  strong  military  position,  or  rise  close  above  the  steep  steps 
of  a  city's  roofs,  and  are  not  pressed  upon  by  the  homes  of  laymen  and 
the  crowds  of  street  and  market-place.  They  are  set  about  with  great 
masses  of  foliage  and  isled  in  wide  peaceful  lawns,  the  very  norm  and 

lln  accurate  parlance  a  "  city  "  in  England  is  any  cathedral   town,  however 
small,  and  no  other  town,  however  great. 


4  English   Catlicdmh. 

model  of  England's  verdure,  although  the  fragmentary  walls  and  crum- 
bling gateways  which  keep  distant  gu>ird  around  them  testify  that  tiiey 
were  not  built  in  such  piping  times  of  peace  as  ours.  But  even  when 
there  is  a  nearer  approach  to  such  stations  as  are  common  across  the 
Channel,  it  is  charming  to  see  how  the  cathedral  site  still  does  not 
wholly  misrepresent  national  characteristics.  E\cn  St.  Paul's  has  some 
shreds  of  dusty  foliage  to  show  ;  and  though  the  huge  facade  of  Lin- 
coln looks  out  on  a  small  paved  square,  and  our  first  glimpse  of 
York  shows  the  long  south  side  through  the  narrow  pers])ective  of  an 
ancient  street,  as  we  turn  their  mighty  shoulders  we  find  broad  grassy 
spaces  to  prove  we  are  in  England  still.  Therefore  there  is  one  thing 
that  cannot  be  disputed  :  we  may  do  as  we  like  on  the  Continent,  but 
an  English  pilgrimage  must  be  made  when  the  tree  is  in  leaf  and  the 
sward  in  flower. 

II 

As  the  focus  of  the  religious  life  of  the  diocese,  and  at  first  the 
hearthstone  of  a  bright  missionary  fire,  a  cathedral  needed  a  staff  of 
clergy  specially  devoted  to  its  wide-spread  work,  specially  charged  and 
enabled  to  be  the  bishop's  helpers.  In  a  large  town  this  staff  this 
"cathedral  chapter,"  scarcely  required  organization.  But  the  peculiar 
state  of  early  England  naturally  brought  about  an  intimate  union  be- 
tween the  cathedral  establishment  and  some  great  collegiate  or  monastic 
body.  Sometimes  such  a  body  was  formed  to  meet  the  cathedral's 
requirements,  but  often  its  prior  existence  had  dictated  the  position  of 
the  bishop's  chair.  The  union  once  accomplished,  both  parties  waxed 
great  by  mutual  aid.  The  "house"  was  exalted  by  the  episcopal  rank 
of  its  head  ;  the  bishop's  arm  was  strengthened  by  the  wealth  and  in- 
fluence of  the  house;  and  the  great  church-edifice  was  the  work  and 
the  home  and  the  glory  of  both. 

In  some  cases,  I  say,  the  cathedral  chapter  was  collegiate  and  in 
some  it  was  monastic.  That  is,  its  members  were  sometimes  "secular" 
priests  bound  by  no  vows  save  those  which  all  priests  assumed,  living 
as  members  of  a  collegiate  foundation  but  not  living  in  common,  each 
one  having  his  own  individual  life  and  home  which  often  meant  in 
earliest  times  his  own  lawful  wife  and  children  ;  and  sometimes  they 
were  monks,  bound  by  monastic  vows,  and  called  "regulars  "  because 
they  lived  in  common  according  to  the  rules  of  a  monastic  order. 

Many  chapters  were  disturbed  and  reorganized  in  many  ages  accord- 
ing as  those  in  authority  above  them  gave  preference  to  the  monkish 


Cathedyal  CImrches  of  England.  5 

or  the  secular  life.  But  it  is  only  needful  to  note  the  interference  of 
the  Reformation  which  has  left  its  traces  in  a  nomenclature  that  may 
easily  confuse  a  foreign  ear.  The  merely  collegiate  chapters  were  al- 
lowed by  Henry  VIII.  to  survive.  The  Catholic  priest  eventually  be- 
came a  Protestant  clergyman,  and  thereby  his  life  and  functions  were 
conspicuously  altered  ;  but  the  chapter  as  such  was  not  annihilated,  and 
so  a  cathedral  whose  chapter  was  collegiate  at  the  time  of  the  Refor- 
mation is  known  to-day  as  a  cathedral  "of  the  Old  Foundation."  But 
the  monkish  chapters  were  dissolved  and  done  away  with  in  the  clean 
sweep  that  Henry  made  of  all  monastic  things.  With  one  or  two 
exceptions,  due  to  the  abolition  of  the  see  itself,  they  were  reorgan- 
ized with  new  blood  in  another  shape ;  and  a  cathedral  whose  history 
reads  thus  is  one  "of  the  New  Foundation,"  while  the  same  name  is 
given  to  all  those  which  were  first  established  in  Henry's  day  with 
Protestant  bishops,  deans,  and  chapters,  or  have  been  thus  established 
at  any  later  time. 

So,  we  see,  a  cathedral  of  the  New  Foundation  is  not  of  necessity  new 
in  anything  but  the  character  of  its  chapter.  It  may  be  a  church  like 
Peterborough  or  Gloucester,  each  of  which  boasts  a  very  ancient  fabric 
but  was  first  raised  to  cathedral  rank  in  the  sixteenth  century.  Or  it 
may  be  a  church  which  has  held  cathedral  rank  since  such  rank  was  first 
given  in  its  district — it  may  be  Rochester,  or  Worcester,  or  even  Can- 
terbury, the  hoary  mother-church  of  all. 

These  arid  definitions  have  more  than  a  merely  historic  bearing.  As 
we  pass  from  one  cathedral  to  another  we  shall  see  how  radical  were 
the  architectural  differences  that  resulted  from  the  existence  here  of 
a  collegiate  chapter  and  there  of  a  monastic.  And  the  general  fact 
that  such  chapters  existed  in  so  dignified  an  estate  and  so  intimate  a 
union  with  the  episcopal  power  is  another  great  cause  of  the  general 
unlikeness  in  aspect  between  English  cathedrals  and  their  rivals 
over-sea. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  wide  lordly  spaces  in  which  they  usually 
stand,  and  which  show  that  they  were  first  and  the  cities  second  in 
importance.  But  within  these  spaces  they  did  not  stand  in  grave  hie- 
rarchic isolation.  They  stood  side  by  side  with  the  homes  of  those  who 
served  their  altars,  and  labored  for  their  interests,  and  dispensed  their 
bounty,  and  swung  their  spiritual,  and  sometimes,  too,  their  temporal, 
sword;  side  by  side  with  chapter-houses  and  dormitories,  cloisters,  refec- 
tories, and  libraries,  with  schools  and  infirmaries,  bishops'  palaces  and 
canons'  dwellings — yes,  and  warriors'  castles  also.  Keeping  within  the 
I* 


Iiiiiflis/i  Cntlicdyals. 


'o> 


precincts  of  England's  cathedrals,  we  may  stvid)  the  traces  of  nearly  every 
kind  of  media;val  architecture,  from  the  most  gorgeously  ecclesiastic 
to  the  most  simply  tiomcstic,  most  purely  utilitarian,  most  frankly  mili- 
tary. And  the  fact,  1  say,  is  characteristically  linglish  :  no  series  of 
cathedrals  in  any  other  land  is  so  all-embracing,  so  infinitely  diversified. 
There  is  nothing  on  the  Continent  which  resembles,  for  instance,  those 
wide  green  shaded  acres  amid  which  Salisbury  stands,  or  matches  the 
palace  beyond  embowered  in  its  fairy-land  of  garden.  There  is  nothing 
abroad  with  a  great  cathedral  church  as  its  central  feature  which  reveals 
the  cloister-life  of  the  middle  ages  as  does  the  ruined  monastic  estab- 
lishment at  Canterbur\-  —  ruined  because  it  was  monastic;  and  there  is 
nothing  which  reveals  the  collegiate  life  of  the  same  epoch  as  does  the 
group  of  still  existing  homes  at  Wells  —  still  existing  because  they 
were  not  monastic. 


Ill 


Almost  every  step  in  the  development  of  English  architecture  may 
be  read  in  the  cathedral  churches.  The  only  blank  their  record  leaves 
is  at  the  very  beginning:  their  only  lack  is  of  pre-Norman  relics.  This 
lack  is  not  due  to  any  want  of  early  effort,  but  in  part  to  Danisli  torches 
and  in  part  to  Norman  energy  in  reconstruction.  When  architecture 
was  a  vital  art,  growing  from  year  to  year,  developing  from  hand  to 
hand,  altering  logically  and  inevitably  to  meet  each  new  requirement 
and  suit  each  generation's  novel  taste,  small  reverence  was  felt  for  earlier 
work  that  seemed  out  of  touch  with  the  current  time.  Long  before  the 
Conquest  there  had  been  large  cathedral  churches  in  England,  often  of 
wood  but  sometimes  of  stone.  But  they  melted  like  snow  beneath  the 
hand  of  the  Norman,  in  whose  virile  soul  zeal  for  religion  and  love 
for  building  were  as  potently  developed  as  rage  for  battle,  dominion, 
and  earthly  pelf  Although  English  cathedrals  sometimes  stand  on  the 
sites  they  consecrated  at  the  dawning  of  Christianity,  they  nowhere 
show  above  the  level  of  the  soil  a  single  stone  of  ante- Norman  date. 
Architectural  history,  as  these  churches  tell  it,  begins  with  the  coming 
of  the  Normans.  But  thence  it  may  be  traced  through  every  age  down 
to  that  of  the  classic  revival ;  and  this  age,  too,  fortunately  found  its 
best  expression  in  the  cathedral  of  St.  Paul  in  London,  which  is  not  so 
much  a  type  of  English  Renaissance  effort  as  its  one  and  only  splendid 
flower.  With  St.  Paul's  our  survey  may  contentedly  clo.se,  for  since 
St.  Paul's  was  built  English  ecclesiastical  architecture  has  seen  no 
development  of  a  genuinely  vital  and  creative  kind. 


Cathedral  Churches  of  England.  7 

As  new  civilizations  based  themselves  upon  the  decaying  elements 
of  Roman  life,  so  the  architectural  styles  which  we  call  Romanesque 
were  evolved  from  the  Roman  manner  of  building.  Roman  halls  of 
justice  supplied  an  excellent  model  for  Christian  churches ;  and  the 
round  arch  and  the  column,  which  the  Romans  of  classic  times 
had  used  together  but  had  not  united,  were  now  brought  into  an 
integral  union.  The  intermediate  entablature  was  thrown  aside,  and 
the  arch  was  sprung  from  the  capital  itself.  This  apparently  sim- 
ple innovation  —  first  attempted,  so  far  as  we  know,  in  the  palace  of 
Diocletian  at  Spalato — marked  the  birth  of  a  new  art.  In  it  there 
lay  in  embryo  all  those  varied  and  magnificent  developments  which 
we  understand  by  media;val  architecture.  From  it  gradually  sprang 
the  lofty  slender  clustered  pier,  the  pointed  arch,  the  wide-spread 
traceried  window,  and  the  vaulted  ceiling,  for  it  meant  not  only  that  a 
new  architectural  expedient  had  been  found,  but  that  old  canons  of 
proportion  and  relationship  had  once  and  for  all  been  broken  through. 

At  the  time  of  the  Conquest  every  Christian  land  practised  some  form 
of  Romanesque.  The  one  that  ruled  in  England,  and  is  commonly 
called  the  Saxon  style,  is  explained  to  us  by  still  surviving  small  ex- 
amples. It  was  a  very  primitive  form,  not  only  because  rudely  wrought, 
but  because  close  akin  to  the  earliest  forms  which  had  been  developed 
in  the  south  of  Europe.  Naturally  it  was  displaced  by  the  form  which 
the  Normans  had  developed  on  the  mainland,  since  this  was  much 
more  highly  organized  and  was  worked  with  a  much  more  skilful 
hand.  Even  before  William's  coming  the  change  had  begun  with 
the  influx  of  Normans  to  Edward  the  Confessor's  court  and  his 
building  of  Westminster  Abbey  in  what  was  called  "the  new  Norman 
way."  And  after  William  came  it  gradually  gained  possession  of  the 
whole  land,  though  for  a  long  time  yet  the  Old  English  manner  seems 
to  have  survived  in  lowly  structures  and  remote  localities,  and  though 
its  influence  somewhat  modified  even  the  greatest  buildings.  Insular 
work  soon  became  Norman,  but  it  was  not  precisely  the  same  as  Con- 
tinental Norman. 

That  cruciform  ground-plan  for  a  church  which  was  slowly  evolved 
from  the  Roman  basilican  plan  was  already  well  established  in  Norman 
architecture.  The  cut  on  page  8  of  the  plan  of  Norwich  will  .show  its 
principal  features  —  the  long  nave  with  aisles  to  right  and  left,  the 
transept  forming  the  arms  of  the  cross,  and  the  choir  forming  its 
upper  extremity  which  always  pointed  toward  the  east.  This  was 
the  plan  of  a  large  church  in  the  eleventh  century;  and  it  survived 


8 


Etiglisli  Cathciiyals. 


•     C  CI  '•       * 


throui,fh  all  later  ages,  although  with  modifications  which  were  nowhere 
more  conspicuous  than  upon  English  soil. 

In  the  next  illustration  we  have  the  interior  design  of  a  great  Nor- 
man church  —  the  pier-arches  supported  hy 
massive  piers  or  pillars  marking  off  nave  from 
aisles  ;  then  the  triforium-arcade  opening  into 
a  second  story  above  the  aisles ;  and  then  an 
upper  range  of  windows  standing  iree  above 
the    aisle-roofs    and    expressively   called    the 

^**tf  •  ?   ^XrrTTTTTa  I    clearstory.      Only  the  aisles  of  early  Norman 
t  '^     \\  a      cathedrals  were  vaulted  with  stone.   Their  wide 

♦  •    •  *  5        «        I      central  areas  were  covered  with  flat  painted 

wooden  ceilings, 
above  which,  of 
course,  as  above 
all  stone  vaults, 
rose  more  or 
less  steeply 

pitched  outer 
roofs  of  timber 
sheathed     with 

lead.     In  the  twelfth  century  the  wooden 

nave-ceilingsof  mostof  the  early  churches 

in    Normandy    itself  were    replaced    by 

stone    vaults ;    but    in    England    similar 

changes  were  not  made.     Should  we  lay 

this  divergence  to  mere  timidity  arising 

from  the  incompetence  of   those  native 

workmen  who  must  have  labored  for  the 

foreign  architect?    Perhaps  ;  but  perhaps 

in  part  at  least  to  the  influence  of  a  strong 

taste  native  to  the  soil.    In  all  after  times, 

a  love  for  wooden  ceilings  characterized 

Enfrlish  builders.     They  could   not   l)ut 

yield   largely  to  the  nobler  titles  of  the 

vault.    But  even  in  the  finest  Gothic  period 

we  sometimes  find  them  imitating  its  lithic  forms  in  wood,  and  in  the 

latest  Gothic  period  (which,  mechanically  speaking,  was  the  cleverest  of 

all)  they  frequently  built  open  timber  roofs — not,  indeed,  in  their  greatest 

churches,  but  in  their  smaller  ones  and  their  vast  and  splendid  civic  halls. 


PLAN  OF  NORWICH  CATHEDRAL. 

NOK.MAN  STVLB. 

A.  Nave.  B.  Crossing  under  central  tower, 
C,  C.  Transept.  K.  Constructional  choir, 
K.  Apse.  (I.  h-istcrn  aisle.  K  Site  of 
I>ady.chapel  (destroyed),  D.  H.  I,  and 
I..  Chapels.  M.  Cloister.  N.  Site  of 
chaptcr-noiisc  (destroyed). 


TWO  B.WS  OK  CHdIK.  INTKRIOR, 
PETERBOROUGH  CATHEDRAL. 

NORMAN    STVLE. 


Cathedral  Chun  lies  of  England. 


The  ereat  leng-th  and  relative  narrowness  of  Norman  churches  is 
even  more  conspicuous  in  England  than  in  Normandy  ;  and  as  a  love 
for  immense  length  only  increased  with  the  development  of  English 
architecture,  we  may  recognize  it,  I  think,  as  another  sign  of  native 
taste.  Such  immense  extension  joined  to  in- 
considerable height  would  have  given  Norman 
churches  a  very  monotonous  aspect  had  it  not 
been  for  the  semicircular  shape  of  the  eastern 
end,  the  great  square  tower  which  rose  above 
the  crossing  of  nave  and  transept,  and  the 
two  smaller  towers  which  usually  flanked  the 
west  fagade.  Norwich  is  the  only  cathedral 
in  England  that  keeps  its  Norman  east  end 
and  tall  central  tower ;  and  no  Xorman  cathe- 
dral-spire survives. 

Inside,  the  central  tower  was  open  as  a 
"lantern"  far  above  the  level  of  the  other  ceil- 
ings, and  was  sustained  by  four  huge  angle- 
piers  joined  by  lofty  arches  at  the  inner  ends 
of  the  four  arms  of  the  cross.  Ornamentation 
was  more  profuse  in  the  later  than  in  the  earlier 
periods  of  the  style,  but  was  never  so  profuse 
in  these  great  cathedrals  as  in  smaller  works. 
Their  vast  proportions  and  the  sturdy  grandeur 
of  their  mighty  features  seem   to  have  been 


thought  effective  enough  without  much  carven 


CENTRAL  TOWER,  NORWICH 
CATHEDRAL. 


NOR.MAN    STYLE. 


decoration.  Effort  of  this  sort  was  concen- 
trated chiefly  upon  the  doorways,  where  rude 
but  picturesquely  telling  figure-sculpture  and  thickly  woven  leaf  and 
basket-like  desigfns  often  mingrled  in  rich  luxuriance.  But  though 
within  the  church  the  strong  capitals  and  huge  arches  are  either  severely 
plain  or  are  emphasized  by  great  bold  simple  zigzags,  rolls,  and  billet- 
mouldings,  we  must  not  forget  that  the  whole  interior,  now  scraped  to 
a  stony  whiteness,  was  originally  plastered  and  clothed  \vith  painted 
patterns. 


IV 

With  the  dawning  of  the  thirteenth  century  tlie  round  arch  gave 
place  to  the  pointed,  antl  what  the  world  with  obstinate  incorrectness 
calls  Gothic  architecture  started  on  its  splendid  course.     This  is  not 


lO 


Etiglisli  Catliciiyals. 


■'.\V.  i(|(] 


yet  the  place  to  discuss  the  why  or  the  how  of  the  advent  and  adoption 
of  the  pointed  arch.  It  may  suffice  to  say  that  though  it  was  first  used 
in  I"" ranee'  as  the  basis  of  a  new  form  of  art,  and  though  the  idea  of 

such  use  came  without  a  doubt  from  France  to 
Kngland,  yet  England  employed  it  for  a  time 
after  a  fashion  of  her  own.  Her  early  treat- 
ment of  the  pointed  arch  was  so  different  from 
that  which  prevailed  elsewhere,  and  also  from 
her  own  later  treatment,  that  she  claims  she  has 
one  more  Gothic  style  to  show  than  any  other 
land.  In  France  Romanesque  art  passed  into 
the  typical  form  of  Gothic  art  without  a  pause 
upon  any  clearly  defined  intermediate  station. 
But  the  Lancet- Pointed  or  Early  English  style 
of  the  thirteenth  century  was  such 
a  station,  marked  by  buildings  quite 
distinct  in  aim  and  expression  from 
those  which  came  before  and  after; 
that  is  to  say,  it  was  long  before 
LANCET-WINDOWS,  CHESTER      England    uscd     tliose     compound 

lights,  united  into  one  window  by 
geometrical  traceries,  which  were 
used  in  France  almost  from  the  very  beginning  of  Gothic 
effort.  For  a  time  she  built  her  pointed  windows  very  tall 
and  slender,  and  grouped  them  together  without  actually 
uniting  them  to  form  a  single  complex  opening.  Lancet- 
windows  were  used  in  other  countries,  and  in  Normandy 
there  was  some  approach  to  a  consistent  Lancet- Pointed 
style.  But  they  were  nowhere  so  long  and  variously  and  Worcester 
exclusively  employed  as  in  England  ;  it  is  only  here  that 
a  genuine  Lancet-Pointed  style  developed  and  prevailed. 

All  features  now  grew  in  grace  and  slenderncss.  The  massive  square 
or  circular  pier  became  lighter,  and  was  set  about  with  smaller  shafts 
in  more  or  less  intimate  union.     The  capital  abandoned  its  square  top, 

1  In  the  eleventh  century  "France"  (lid  not  mean  The  styles  which   developed   in    the  various  olher 

at  all  what  it  means  to-day.      The  name  then  be-  provinces  that    now  form    France   are  properly   to 

longed  only  to  the  Ile-de- France,  that  district  lying  be  called  by  their  respective  provincial  names.     It 

around  Paris  which  was  the  domain  of  the  Capctian  was  only  in  late  nie(lia.'val  days  that,  with  the  grow- 

kings  themselves,  not  of  one  of  their  great  vassals  ing   power   of   the  monarchy,  true   French   Gothic 

or  rivals.     .\nd  this  district,  this  old  domainc  royal,  spread     itself    abroad    through    districts    each    of 

with  adjacent  portions   of  surrounding  provinces,  which  in  earlier  periods  had  worked  after  a  manner 

has  always  been  France  in  an  architectural  sense,  of  its  own. 


CATHEDRAL. 

EARLY   ENGLISH    STYLE.' 


CLUSTERED 
PIER. 


CATHEDRAL. 

EARLY  ENGLISH. 


Cathedral  Clmvchcs  of  England. 


1 1 


CLUSTERED  PIER, 

EXETER 

CATHEDRAL. 

EARLY    ENGLISH. 


or  abacus,  for  a  circular  one.     The  chisel  showed  new  skill  and  a  novel 
choice  of  motives  in  the  succession  of  deep-cut  mouldings  which  de- 
fined the  outline  of  the  arch,  and  in  the  crown  of  quaint  non-natural 
but  lovely  curling  leaves  that  was  set  around  the  capital. 
And  pointed  vaults  replaced  the  flat  wooden  ceiling. 

Conspicuous,  too,  with  the  advent  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury was  the  alteration  of  the 
ground-plan.  In  the  first  place, 
the  eastern  arm  of  the  cross  be- 
came much  longer, — a  change 
which  was  due  in  part  at  least 
to  the  orrovvth  of  saint-  and  relic- 
worship.  No  great  house  was 
too  poor  in  history  to  supply 
some  local  sainted  founder,  pa- 
tron, bishop,  martyr,  when  the 
popular  love  of  pilgrimages  was 
at  its  height ;  and  none  was  so 
blind  to  the  chance  of  spiritual 
and  temporal  profit  but  that  it  could  perceive 
the   obligation  to   give   him   noble   sepulture. 

The  crypt  beneath  the  choir  had  sufficed  for  all  burials  at  an  earlier 
day  ;  but  now  behind  the  high  altar  in  the  church  itself  holy  bones 
were  laid  in  greater  state,  famous  relics  were  shown  in  a  more  splen- 
did pageant,  and  miracles  were  performed  in  presence  of  far  vaster 
throngs  of  the  devout.  Thus  the  eastern  arm  was  obliged  to  stretch 
itself  out  to  a  length  which  has  of  course  become  wholly  useless  under 
the  changed  conditions  of  a  less  emotional  time  and  faith. 

When  speaking  architecturally  we  cannot  help  calling  this  eastern 
arm  of  a  church  the  "choir."  But  in  Norman  days  it  did  not  hold  the 
true  choir — the  "ritual  choir"  or  "singers'  choir,"  the  place  set  apart 
for  those  who  performed  the  complicated  choral  service.  This  true 
choir  was  an  inclosure,  fenced  off  on  three  sides  from  the  lay  congre- 
gation but  open  toward  the  east,  which  extended  across  the  transept 
beneath  the  lantern  and  often  into  the  nave,  leaving  the  short  east 
limb,  dominated  by  the  altar  near  its  end,  as  the  presbytery  for  the 
higher  clergy.  This  disposition  has  in  certain  cases  been  preserved. 
But  usually,  in  one  Gothic  period  or  another,  the  singers'  stalls  were 
moved  back  into  the  eastern  arm,  the  lateral  screens  running  between 
pier  and  pier  and  leaving  the  aisles  free  on  either  hand,  and  the  west- 


CAPIT.\L,  WELLS  CATHEDRAL. 

EARLY   ENGLISH. 


12  H.)iglisli  Cathedrals. 

ern  one  standin<j  Ik-Iwcimi  the  ant^de-piers  eastward  of  the  crossinjj;; 
and  thus  the  ritual  choir  liecame  part  of  the  constructional.  A  second 
transept — a  feature  rarely  used  except  in  En^^land — was  then  some- 
times built  to  the  eastward  of  the  main  one,  perhaps  to  t,nve  fresh 
architectural  voice  to  the  ecclesiolofjical  distinction  between  choir  and 
presbytery.  These  arrangements  all  show  in  the  plan  of  Salisbury 
Cathedral  in  Chapter  V;  and  there  we  also  see  still  another  English 
innovation,  and  a  most  important  one.  The  semicircular  end,  or  apse, 
with  which  the  Norman  finished  the  eastern  limb,  and  often  the 
transept-ends  as  well,  was  retained  all  through  the  middle  ages  in 
all  Continental  countries,  though  sometimes  altered  to  a  polygonal 
shape  and  sometimes  surrounded  by  a  range  of  chapels.  But  in  the 
early  thirteenth  century  the  English  abandoned  it  in  favor  of  a  flat 
east  end  with  great  groups  of  lofty  windows ;  and  this  form  of  termi- 
nation was  ever  after  as  persistent,  as  characteristic,  in  England  as 
was  the  apse  elsewhere. 

Whither  must  we  look  for  the  explanation  of  so  marked  a  difference 
in  times  when  a  single  faith  prevailed,  and  when  no  nation  built  in  self- 
contained  privacy  but  each  helped  the  others  with  ideas  and  inventions, 
and  often  with  exported  artists  too  ?  Doubtless  once  more  to  the  per- 
sistence of  ante-Norman  tastes,  to  the  strength  of  preferences  native 
to  the  soil,  inherent  in  the  air,  partly  suppressed  so  long  as  the  domi- 
nating Norman  was  still  an  alien  in  the  land,  but  quick  to  reassert  them- 
selves when  his  acclimatizing  had  been  brought  about.  Indeed,  if  we 
may  believe  the  seemingly  logical  conclusions  of  certain  careful  stu- 
dents, this  ante-Norman  influence  was  ante-English  even;  the  true  first 
birth  of  the  flat  (;ast  end,  they  tell  us,  must  be  sought  in  those  little 
Irish  chapels  which  are  the  only  relics  in  the  whole  island  realm  of  the 
days  when  its  Church  was  British. 

The  characteristic  love  of  the  English  builder  for  longitudinal  exten- 
sion does  not  show  merely  in  the  length  of  his  naves,  or  of  his  choirs  as 
compared  with  his  naves.  Beyond  his  unusually  long  choirs  he  almost 
always  threw  out  further  chapels  of  considerable  size.  "  Lady-chapels  " 
they  were  most  often,  dedicated  to  the  Holy  Mother  whose  cult,  like 
that  of  all  lesser  saints,  developed  so  enormously  during  the  twelfth 
century.  Sometimes  this  chapel  is  of  the  same  height  and  width  as  the 
choir  itself  forming  part  and  parcel  of  it  in  an  architectural  sense.  But 
more  often  it  is  a  lower  building  into  which  we  look  through  the  pier- 
arcade  of  the  flat  choir-end,  while  above  its  roof  this  end  rises  far  aloft, 
with  vast  windows  and   gable  finishing  the  tru(;  body  of   the  church. 


Cathcdnil  Churclics  of  England. 


13 


But,  as  we  see  a<fain  on  the  plan  of  Salisbury,  all  the  minor  termina- 
tions are  flat  as  well  as  the  main  one.  The  apse  has  disappeared 
altogether,  only  to  be  resuscitated  now  and  then  in  places  where,  as  at 
Westminster  Abbey,  foreign  influence  is  plainly  perceived. 

Gradually  —  nay,   rapidly,    in    less    than    a    century — the    Lancet- 


PLATE  TRACERY. 


ONE  BAY   OF   THE   "ANGEL  CHOIR,"    INTERIOR, 
LINCOLN   CATHEDRAL. 

DECOEtATED   STYLE. 


GEO.METRICAL  TRACERY. 
RIPON  CATHEDRAL. 


Pointed  gave  place  to  the  full-blown  Gothic  style,  which  in  England 
is  commonly  but  not  very  sensibly  called  the  Decorated  style.  Window- 
traceries  were  now  developed,  passing  through  successive  stages  as 
"plate"  and   "geometrical"   and  "flowing";    and  the  sculptor  went 


H 


English  Cnf/iidrn/s. 


FLOWINc,    1  KAe  KKY,  WELL-S 
CATHF.DRAL. 

DBCOKATCD   STYLE. 


more  dircctl)'  to  nature  for  the  more 
varied  patterns  of  his  leafage.  Now  the 
scheme  of  the  ishmd  architect  resembled 
that  of  his  foreign  brother.  But  his  pe- 
culiar ground-plan  persisted,  and  in  cer- 
tain important 
respects  he  was 
still  conspicu- 
ously  himself 

And  when  the 
])urest  time  of 
flowering  was 
over,  when  each 
great  building 
nation  entered 
upon    a    period 


which,  though   vigorous    and    admirable,  was 
nevertheless  a  period  of  exaggeration  and  a 


itj)  ZV*>N 


i 


PERPENUiCLLAR  WlNliuW,  WEST  FRONT, 
NORWICH  CATHEDRAL. 

INSERTED   IN    NORMAN    WALL. 


FRENCH  FLAMBOYANT 
TRACERV,  ROUEN  CATHEDRAL. 

pushing  to  extremes  and  there- 
fore of  incipient  decline — then 
the  English  architect  became 
again  more  individual  in  his 
mood.  Then,  indeed,  insular  pe- 
culiarities were  more  strongly 
marked  than  ever  before,  and  a 
style  was  evolved  which  is  the 
only  one  that  can  boast  an  un- 
disputed claim  to  English  origin. 
Late  French  Gothic  became  in- 
comparably exuberant  and  unfet- 
tered ;  it  twisted  and  wove  its 
traceries,  for  instance,  into  such 
flame-like,  wavy,  stone-denying 
forms  that  its  name,  Flamboyant, 


Cathedral  Churches  of  England. 


15 


is  picturesquely  lucid.  But  late  English  Gothic  stiffened  into  a  fash- 
ion which  is  just  as  well  named  Perpendicular.'  The  muUions  of  its 
windows  almost  abandoned  their 
curves,  and  were  cut  across  by 
{^trong  horizontal  transoms  ;  and 
the  panel-like  forms  thus  pro- 
duced were  carried  over,  as  su- 
perficial decoration,  upon  the 
wall-spaces  between.  In  both 
countries  the  arch  took  on  a  va- 
riety of  complex  shapes  ;  but  its 
most  characteristic  shape  in 
France  was  the  reversed  or  ogee 
curve,  and  in  England  the  low 
four-centred  curve — the  former 
somewhat  too  free,  the  latter 
somewhat  too  rigid  in  expression. 


Contrasting  Perpendicular 
and  Flamboyant  work,  we  seem  to 
see  in  England  architectural  prose 
and  in  France  architectural  poetry. 
The  prose  is  very  clever  and 
impressive,  and  sometimes  truly 
majestic;  but  it  lacks  that  purely 
aesthetic  feeling  and  that  rich 
sensuous   beauty  which   breathe 

from  the  work  of  France,  always  seductive,  imaginative,  full  of  passion 
and  fire,  though  now  run  a  little  wild,  grown  over-daring,  fanciful,  and 
almost  freakish.  And  the  same  qualities  which  come  out  so  strongly 
in  this  latest,  least  reserved  and  temperate,  most  individual  and  there- 
fore most  perfectly  expressive  period,  are  clearly  if  less  conspicuously 
marked  in  the  developments  that  had  gone  before.  Nothing  is  more 
characteristic  of  English  Gothic  architecture  than  its  love  of  lowness, 
its  persistent  neglect  of  those  effects  of  vertical  extension  which  French 
Gothic  loved  beyond  all  else.      Extreme  elevation  means,  of  course, 

1  Here  we  find  the  converse  of  the  facts  noted  re-  ous  Flamboyant  style  was  never  used  in  England.  On 
garding  lancet-windows.  Flamboyant  windows  may  the  other  hand,  there  is  nothing  away  from  England's 
be  found  in  English  Decorated  work,  but  a  homogene-     shores  which  at  all  resembles  her  Perpendicular  work. 


TWO  BAYS  OF  NAVE,  INTERIOR.  WINCHESTER 
CATHEDRAL. 


PERPENDICl'LAK    STTLE. 


1 6  English  Cathedrals. 

very  daring  constructional  processes;  and  may  we  not  read  a  national 
instinct  against  it  as  proof  of  a  national  spirit  of  caution,  timidity,  self- 
restraint — as  proof  of  a  prosaic  temper  in  the  race?  Remember  that 
we  cannot  judge  Gothic  as  we  should  classic  architects.  Self-restraint, 
balance,  and  repose  formed  the  essence  of  classic  art,  and  success  with 
it  was  greatest  when  these  qualities  were  most  perfectly  achieved.  But 
the  spirit  of  Gothic  art  was  audacious,  emotional,  imaginative,  mobile, 
and  aspiring.  In  one  word,  it  was  romantic ;  and  we  all  know  that 
romantic  means  the  very  opposite  of  classic,  .^s  the  poetry  of  Greece 
differs  in  character  and  ideals  from  the  poetry  of  the  Teutonic  races,  so 
Greek  architecture  differs  from  the  architecture  which  bloomed  when 
Teutonic  blood  had  leavened  and  transformetl  the  heritage  of  classic 
civilization.  To  be  relatively  cautious,  unimaginative,  unambitious,  un- 
aspiring, meant,  with  Gothic  builders,  not  to  show  the  iiighest  aesthetic 
meaning  latent  in  the  elements  of  their  art.  And  this,  I  think,  despite 
all  the  grandeur  and  the  beauty  that  the)-  wrought,  was  the  case  with 
the  architects  of  England.  The  imaginative  power  of  this  race  ex- 
pressed itself  best  in  poetry,  while  that  of  the  races  which  blended  in 
the  lands  we  now  call  France  e.xpressed  itself  best  in  art.  The  fact  is  as 
clearly  proved  by  the  decorations  as  by  the  main  fabric  of  media;val 
churches.  The  wealth  of  imaginative  resource  and  of  manual  skill 
shown  by  the  carven  ornaments  and  especially  by  the  figure-sculpture 
of  all  the  provinces  of  France  is  not  even  remotely  paralleled  in  England, 
while  the  English  feeling  for  color,  as  revealed  in  painted  glass,  is  not 
nearly  on  a  par  with  the  French. 

It  is  impossible  to  realize  this  difference  unless  one  has  studied  the 
Gothic  work  of  both  these  lands.  Westminster  Abbey,  for  instance, 
with  its  one  hundred  and  one  feet  of  height,  is  the  loftiest  church  in 
England,  and,  revealing  everywhere  a  strong  French  influence,  it  cannot 
be  taken  as  a  type  of  national  effort.  York  mea.sures  only  ninety-two 
feet,  and  all  the  other  cathedrals  are  lower  still.  Now  ninety,  or  eighty, 
or  even  seventy  feet  of  height  may  sound  tremendous  in  transatlantic 
ears,  may  look  tremendous  to  transatlantic  eyes  taking  their  first  lesson 
in  the  magnificence  of  mediaeval  work.  But  imagine  what  such  a 
height  must  mean  if  actually  doubled ;  or  go  to  France  and  see,  or  to 
Cologne,  which,  again,  is  really  a  French  church  though  standing  on 
German  soil.  See  the  extraordinary  beauty,  the  extraordinary  sublim- 
ity of  such  proportions ;  feel  their  mystery,  their  poetry,  their  over- 
whelming impressiveness  —  spiritual,  emotional,  not  coldly  intellectual 
in  quality.     Then  you  will  realize  that  these  were  the  truest  Gothic 


CatJiedral  Churches  of  England.  1 7 

builders,  and  that  their  power  came  from  poetic  audacity,  from  strength 
of  imaginative  impulse;  for  height,  in  an  interior,  is  the  great  enchanter, 
the  great  poetizer  and  soul-subduer.  Length  is  seen  and  understood 
and  valued  at  its  worth.  Height  is  felt,  and  the  longer  we  submit  our- 
selves to  its  influence  the  more  bewildering  and  supernal  it  remains. 
One  argument,  indeed,  is  sometimes  urged  in  favor  of  the  vast  length 
of  English  cathedrals  and  that  wide  spread  which  their  narrowness 
permits  in  the  transept-arms,  as  compared  with  the  broader,  shorter, 
compacter,  if  taller,  area  of  French  cathedrals.  In  France  we  most 
often  see  the  total  effect  of  a  great  church  as  we  enter;  we  receive  a 
tremendous  impression  which  we  know  will  be  developed  and  enhanced 
from  future  points  of  view,  but  will  not  be  succeeded  by  others  of  differ- 
ent kinds.  But  in  Engfland  we  enter  what  seems  a  treasure-house  of 
impressions  that  may  prove  ever  new  and  various  as  our  steps  extend. 
Of  course  the  realization  of  this  idea  is  helped  by  the  diversity  in  date 
between  part  and  part  which  is  so  conspicuous  in  English  cathedrals,  and 
therefore  the  traveler  often  votes  them  more  interesting  than  their  rivals. 
But  does  not  such  a  decision  imply  that  he  cares  less  for  pure  archi- 
tectural beauty  than  for  mere  picturesqueness,  or  for  the  gratification  of 
mere  curiosity  ?  However  large  it  may  be,  a  church  is  a  single  build- 
ing. Therefore,  should  we  not  rate  its  excellence  just  in  proportion  to 
the  unity  of  the  impression  it  makes?  In  fine  French  churches,  I  may 
add,  this  unity  means  no  lack  of  minor  parts  and  features  to  gratify 
the  natural  desire  that  absolutely  everything  should  not  be  revealed 
at  the  first  broad  glance.  What  I  want  to  explain  is  simply  that  the 
typical  French  interior  strikes  us  as  a  single  body  composed  of  many 
parts,  and  the  typical  English  one  as  a  compound  body.  I  think  the 
question  of  true  superiority  is  settled  by  these  facts;  and  I  am  sure  it 
must  decide  itself  as  they  decide  it  if  the  traveler  stays  long  enough 
near  French  and  English  cathedrals  for  the  prickings  of  curiosity  to  be 
dulled  and  the  worth  of  first  impressions  to  be  tested  by  familiarity. 
It  may  be  more  interesting  to  explore  a  church  like  Winchester  or 
York.  It  is  surely  more  satisfying  to  sit  day  after  day  in  one  like 
Amiens  or  Rheims. 

Of  course  such  a  difference  in  interior  effect  is  translated  by  an  equal 
difference  in  external  aspect.  The  contrast  is  very  great  between  the 
compact  broad  tall  body  of  a  French  church,  with  its^ranks  of  flying- 
buttresses,  and  the  long  low  narrow  self-sustaining  body  of  an  Eng- 
lish one ;  and  the  claim  of  the  latter  to  superiority  is  far  more  often 
pleaded  than  that  of  the  interior  it  covers.  But  if  English  cathedrals 
2 


1 8  Eiig/ish  Cathedrals. 

were  judged  apart  from  their  lovely  surroundings,  I  think  such  pleading 
would  be  less  emphatic. 

The  greatest  merit  of  the  long  low  English  sky-line  is  the  way  in 
which  it  permits  an  extraordinary  dignity  in  the  towers.  During  the 
Roinanestiue  period  the  main  external  feature  of  a  church  was  almost 
always  a  central  tower.  As  the  CJothic  body  grew  tall  in  Continental 
countries,  this  tower  inevitably  shrank  into  a  mere  lantern  or  spirelet,  or 
disappeared  altogether,  while  its  former  subordinates,  flanking  the  west- 
ern front,  usurped  its  vanished  glory.  But  in  England  the  central  tower 
kept  all  its  early  preponderance  and  grew  to  greater  than  its  early  size, 
while,  for  a  time,  the  western  ones  remained  its  lesser  but  still  magnifi- 
cent neighbors.  The  narrowness  of  the  church  compelled  the  transept- 
arms  to  spread  far  beyond  the  line  of  nave  and  choir,  and  thus  the  eye 
was  assured  of  the  stability  of  the  tower  above  the  crossing;  and  the 
lowness  of  the  roofs  quickly  disengaged  all  the  towers  and  gave  them 
immense  apparent  size  even  when  they  were  not  really  very  tall.  Thus, 
through  the  spreading  of  his  transept  and  the  soaring  of  his  central 
tower,  the  island  architect  gave  his  exterior  a  pyramidal  shape  in 
which  all  parts  and  forms  led  up  to  a  common  centre.  The  charm  of 
his  arrangement  is  undeniable,  but  its  grandeur  is  less  than  that  of  a 
church  like  Notre  Dame  in  Paris,  for  instance,  where  we  have  no 
central  tower  but  two  great  western  ones,  a  magnificent  circular  sweep 
at  the  eastern  end,  and  light  yet  sinewy  lines  of  flying-buttresses  to 
su[)port  the  lofty  clearstory. 

As  regards  ecclesiological  expressiveness  we  may  say,  1  think,  that 
each  type  suits  the  sites,  surroundings,  and  special  purposes  character- 
istic of  the  land  which  developed  it.  In  France  a  cathedral  was  built 
in  the  heart  of  a  city,  and,  especially  in  the  days  of  Gothic  art,  was 
built  by  and  for  the  people  at  large ;  and  thus  it  was  doubly  fitting  that 
its  west  front  —  the  place  of  entrance — should  be  most  conspicuously 
accentuated.  But  in  England  a  cathedral  most  often  stood  apart  from 
the  city's  streets,  encircled  by  subordinate  structures  of  its  own,  and 
was  built  first  of  all  for  the  sake  of  the  body  of  clergy  who  served  it ; 
and  thus  the  English  accentuation  of  the  crossing  of  nave  and  transept 
— the  centre,  the  heart,  of  the  edifice — justifies  itself  to  both  mind  and 
eye.  The  great  defect  of  the  English  arrangement  we  shall  discover 
as  we  pass  churches  of  different  periods  in  review:  it  was  difficult  to 
supply  a  composition  dominated  by  a  central  tower  with  an  entrance 
front  which  should  assert  its  own  importance  and  yet  not  assert  it 
too  boldly. 


Cathedral  Churches  of  England.  19 


VI 


The  lowness  of  an  English  cathedral  and  the  small  service  it  asks 
from  the  flying-buttress  are  often  praised  for  the  repose  of  aspect 
they  confer.  Nor  is  this  repose  a  quality  to  be  wholly  condemned, 
given  the  usual  character  of  English  sites.  But  I  have  already  said 
that  repose,  as  distinct  from  strength  and  stability,  is  not  the  typical 
expression  of  Gothic  architecture.  This  typical  expression  is  one  of 
aspiring  yet  easy  eftbrt,  of  vitality,  of  the  exercise  of  a  force  which 
seems  to  uplift  rather  than  simply  to  bear. 

If  we  ask  the  reason  why,  we  are  brought  at  once  to  the  study  of  con- 
structional facts.  Thus  far  I  have  merely  spoken,  from  the  broadly 
aesthetic  point  of  view,  of  such  superficial  effects  as  appeal  to  every 
eye.  But  it  is  very  important  to  learn  that,  in  architecture,  a  radical 
unlikeness  between  effects  is  always  born  from  a  difference  in  construc- 
tional processes,  and  that  all  sesthetic  judgments  must  take  this  differ- 
ence into  account.  The  typical  expression  of  Gothic  churches  simply 
translates  the  fact  that  the  beginning  of  Gothic  art  meant  the  dawning 
of  a  new  constructional  ideal  which,  by  the  aid  of  newly  adopted  practi- 
cal expedients,  was  gradually  brought  to  full  and  perfect  realization. 

The  radical  change  which  came  about  when  Romanesque  builders 
used  arch  and  column  in  a  novel  way  was  followed  by  another  when  early 
Gothic  builders  discovered  the  constructional  potency  of  the  pointed 
arch.  As  the  form  of  churches,  determined  by  the  disposition  of  their 
ground-plans,  did  not  greatly  alter,  this  second  change  is  less  apparent 
to  uncritical  eyes  than  the  one  effected  by  the  substitution  of  the  church- 
plan  for  the  temple-plan  (which  meant  the  shifting  of  colonnades  from 
the  exterior  to  the  interior),  and  by  the  placing  of  the  arch  directly  on 
the  pier.  But  in  one  sense  it  was  a  change  of  even  greater  significance. 
A  classic  temple  is  a  system  of  sturdy  walls  and  colonnades  all  helping 
to  sustain  a  solid  roof  So  is  a  Romanesque  church,  and,  in  consequence, 
perfect  repose  is  a  quality  common  to  both.  But  it  is  not  a  quality 
proper  to  a  Gothic  church,  because  this  is  a  highly  organized  framework 
of  piers,  arches,  and  buttresses,  so  disposed  that  the  spaces  of  wall  and 
roof  between  them  merely  serve  for  enclosure.  A  Romanesque  church, 
like  a  Greek  temple,  stands  by  virtue  of  inertia ;  but  a  perfect  Gothic 
church  stands  by  virtue  of  a  skilfully  balanced  system  of  thrusts  and  coun- 
ter-thrusts concentrated  upon  special  points  of  support.  The  Gothic  con- 
structional scheme  could  never  have  been  developed  without  the  pointed 
arch  ;  but  this  is  only  one  element  in  the  scheme,  and  the  simple  fact  that 


20  lliiglisli  Cathedrals. 

it  is  used  does  not  make  a  building  Gothic.  Arabian  mosques  have 
pointed  openings,  but  their  constructional  scheme  is  reall)'  the  same 
that  we  find  in  Grecian  temples  and  Romanesque  cathedrals.  Accord- 
ing as  the  general  Gothic  scheme  is  consistently  and  logically  used,  a 
Gothic  church  is  architecturally  poor  or  fine,  no  matter  what  may  be 
its  claim  upon  our  feeling  for  picturesqueness  or  for  grandeur;  and 
the  further  this  scheme  has  been  carried,  without  a  loss  of  either  the 
fact  or  the  air  of  stability,  dignity,  and  grace,  the  nobler  has  been  the 
architect's  success. 

Let  me  once  more  assert  these  facts :  A  Roviancsque  church  stands 
by  virhic  of  inertia,  a  pei'fcct  Gothic  church  byvii'tnc  of  a  system  of  con- 
centrated thrusts  and  counter-thrusts ;  for  they  are  absolutely  funda- 
mental and  explanatory,  prescribing  that  the  two  kinds  of  buildings 
must  be  judged  by  different  sets  of  canons.  We  cannot  test  the  true 
architectural  excellence  of  any  mediaeval  church  unless  we  ajjply  the 
proper  set  to  all  its  forms  and  parts,  although,  of  course,  other  con- 
siderations constantly  come  in  play  to  settle  questions  of  beauty  in  the 
widest  possible  sense.  We  shall  see,  as  our  study  extends,  how  a 
knowledge  of  the  true  criteria  of  Gothic  art  may  affect  our  judgment 
with  regard  to  all  the  points  of  difference  hitherto  noted  as  distinguish- 
ing English  Gothic  from  French,  and  especially  the  vexed  questions  of 
relative  height  and  the  development  of  flying-buttresses.  Now  I  will 
only  say  in  passing  that  if  these  criteria  were  always  remembered  when 
English  Gothic  is  judged,  its  claims  to  equality  with  French  would  find 
less  hearty  support.  They  would  prove  that  while  the  French  architect 
was  more  poetic  in  his  results,  he  was  also  more  logical  in  his  aim.s, 
more  consistent  in  their  realization.  They  would  show,  indeed,  that  it 
was  just  because  he  most  clearly  conceived  the  aesthetic  ideal  proper 
to  the  new  system  of  construction  and  most  unflinchingly  expressed  it, 
that  he  put  a  higher  degree  of  poetry  into  his  results.  It  was  because 
Frenchmen  were  the  most  logical  of  Gothic  builders  that  they  could 
dare  to  be  the  most  imaginative  and  ambitious. 


VII 

Mlcii  mathematical  knowledge  would  be  needed  really  to  explain  the 
character  and  development  of  Gothic  vaulting,  and  many  mathematical 
diagrams  in  illustration.  But  even  in  these  pages  the  subject  cannot 
be  altogether  avoided,  for  the  vault  was  the  most  important  feature  in 
Gothic  architecture.      Indeed,  it  created  Gothic  architecture.      Had  Ro- 


Cathedral  CliurcJies  of  England.  2 1 

manesque  architects  been  content  with  flat  wooden  ceilings,  such  a 
structure  as  a  Gothic  church  could  never  have  been  thought  of;  and 
had  they  been  content  with  vaults  as  the  Romans  bequeathed  them,  it 
could  never  have  been  built. 

The  earliest  form  of  stone  ceiling  used  by  Romanesque  builders  in 
the  west  of  Europe  was  the  barrel-vault,  or  wagon-vault,  of  the  Romans, 
which,  as  its  names  imply,  is  a  continuous  ceiling  of  semi-cylindrical 
shape  ;  and  they  often  strengthened  it  with  great  arches  thrown  across 
from  wall  to  wall,  which  may  be  likened  to  the  hoops  of  a  barrel  or  those 
which  support  the  canvas  on  such  wagons  as  used  to  be  called  "prairie- 
schooners." 

But  while  church-naves  were  still  covered  in  this  way,  the  narrower 
lower  aisles  were  often  covered  with  groined  vaults.  From  each  pier  of 
the  arcade  between  nave  and  aisle,  an  arch  was  thrown  across  to  the  aisle- 
wall,  corresponding  with  the  pier-arches  in  height  and  span  ;  and  each  of 
the  square  compartments  thus  created  was  covered  by  a  ceiling  which, 
in  theory,  was  composed  of  two  barrel-vaults  interpenetrating  at  right 
angles  and  thus  giving  rise  to  four  sharp  edges,  or  arrises,  which  started 
from  the  four  corners  of  the  base  of  the  vault,  and  ran  up  to  unite  at  its 
apex.  These  groined  vaults  had  also  been  used  by  the  Romans.  But 
the  Romanesque  architect  soon  innovated  upon  his  inheritance  by  build- 
ing strong  ribs  along  his  arrises,  thus  accenting  their  lines  as  those  of 
two  diagonal  arches  intersecting  at  the  apex  of  the  vault,  as  we  see  in 
the  pictures  of  the  north  aisle  of  Gloucester  in  Chapter  XI  and  of  the 
south  aisle  of  Durham  in  Chapter  IV.  This  was  not  done,  as  might  be 
fancied,  merely  to  improve  the  look  of  the  work  —  it  was  done  to  sim- 
plify and  facilitate  construction  ;  for  the  new  diagonal  arches  are  really 
new  constructional  features,  architectural  bones  solidifying  the  substance 
of  the  vault,  vaulting-ribs  which,  like  permanent  centrings,  uphold  the 
curved  fields  between  them,  and  allow  them  to  be  built  of  very  small 
stones  and  to  be  comparatively  thin.  This  clever  architect  did  not  know 
that  in  devisingf  these  ribs  he  had  sown  the  seed  which  was  to  o^row 
into  a  new  form  of  architecture ;  but  he  soon  perceived  that  the  addi- 
tional strength  which  he  had  conferred  upon  groined  vaults  would  per- 
mit him  to  substitute  them  for  the  barrel-vault  above  his  wide  naves. 

But,  as  round  arches  which  rise  from  the  same  level  can  reach  the 
same  height  only  when  of  the  same  span,  he  could  use  groined  vaults 
well  only  above  square  compartments ;  over  an  oblong  compartment  he 
was  obliged  either  conspicuously  to  stilt  some  of  his  arches,  or  to  use 
for  others  a  segmental  form  which  meant  both  ugliness  and  construe- 


2  2  Eus^/is/i  Cathcdyals. 


tional  weakness,  or  to  start  different  arches  from  different  levels,  which 
was  not  easily  managed  with  current  methods  of  design.  Therefore,  if 
his  groined  vaults  were  to  be  perfect  ones,  not  only  had  his  aisle  to  be 
of  the  same  width  as  one  bay  in  his  pier-arcade,  but  his  nave  had  to  be 
exactly  twice  this  witlth,  anil  each  compartment  of  its  \aulting  had  to 
embrace  two  bays  of  the  wall-design.  This  necessity  is  revealed  by 
that  alternation  of  form  in  the  piers  of  the  great  arcade  which  we  find 
in  many  late  Norman  and  early  Gothic  churches:  the  sturdier  or  more 
comple.x  piers  bear  the  supports  of  the  vaulting-ribs,  and  the  interme- 
diate ones  directly  sustain  no  part  of  the  vaulting,  or  else,  as  in  the  choir 
of  Canterbury,  carry  intermediate  ribs,  thrown  across  the  nave  between 
the  diagonal  ribs,  which  bring  the  vaults  into  what  is  called  a  se.xpar- 
tite  form.*  Thus  we  have  a  clear  instance  of  the  way  in  which  the  char- 
acter of  the  vault  was  expressed  by  the  design  of  the  church's  wall,  the 
concentration  of  part  of  tlie  thrust  of  the  \;uiUs  lireaking  that  uiiili)nn 
series  of  piers  which  we  see,  for  instance,  in  the  nave  of  Peterborough, 
and  which  was  appropriate  when  a  flat  ceiling  was  used,  or  a  barrel- 
vault  whose  thrust  was  more  equally  distributed  along  the  walls.  Of 
course  vaulting-shafts  were  not  demanded  by  barrel-vaults  unless  trans- 
verse ribs  were  to  be  prepared  for;  nor  were  they  ever  denKuulctl  1))' 
flat  ceilings.  lUit  it  .seems  almo.st  certain  that  all  the  great  early  Nor- 
man naves  which  were  covered  by  flat  ceilings  were  intended,  from  the 
first,  to  be  covered  by  vaults  of  some  kind,  and  that  either  cautious- 
ness or  lack  of  funds  prescribed  the  substitution  —  temporary  or  not  as 
the  case  might  prove  —  of  the  flat  boanled  ceilings. 

Nothing  more  than  this  could  be  done,  however,  while  the  architect 
was  tied  to  the  round  arch.  He  was  obliged  to  support  vaults  which 
exerted  an  enormous  thrust  ;  he  was  obliged  to  observe  certain  relative 
proportions,  not  onl)-  in  the  design  ofthe.se  vaults,  I)ut  in  that  of  every 
portion  of  his  edifice ;  and  his  difficulties  were  great  indeed  when  he 
wished  to  cover  irregularly  shaped  compartments,  such  as  those  which 
occur  in  the  encircling  aisle  of  an  apse  where  the  inner  side  of  each 
compartment  is  much  narrower  than  its  outer  side. 

i')ut  before-  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  centur)-  it  was  perceived  in 
iM'ance  that  pointed  arch-forms  would  exert  a  much  less  powerful  thrust, 
and  would  give  the  architect  much  greater  freedom  in  design.  The 
height  of  his  arches  would  no  longer  be  stricdy  determined  by  their  span: 

1  In  this  form  two  transverse  skew-vaults,  sepa-  cut  of  the  choir  of  Canterbury,  is  somewhat  awk- 
rated  by  the  transverse  ril),  are  grouped  between  ward-looking,  and  hence  the  form  was  early  aban- 
each  pair  of  diagonal  ribs ;   the  result,  shown  in  the       doned. 


Cathedral  Churches  of  Ejiglatid.  23 

narrow  ones  could  be  carried  as  high  as  wider  ones,  and  so  he  could 
adapt  his  vaulting  to  compartments  of  an  oblong  or  even  of  a  quite  irreg- 
ular shape,  without  much  constructional  difficulty  and  with  no  offense 
to  the  eye. 

At  first  pointed  arches  were  used  only  where  constructionally  re- 
quired; as  we  shall  see  in  the  choir  of  Canterbury  and  the  nave  of 
Durham,  the  transverse  arches  of  the  vault  were  pointed,  while  the 
diagonal  ribs  retained  their  semicircular  sweep.  But,  of  course,  it  was 
soon  felt  that,  constructionally  and  aesthetically,  a  concord  of  forms  was 
desirable,  and  the  pointed  arch  gradually  ousted  the  round  one  from  its 
place,  first  in  all  the  major  features,  and  then  in  the  minor  ones  and  in 
every  decorative  detail.  And  this  change  was  naturally  accelerated 
by  the  fact  that,  as  I  have  said,  a  pointed  arch  exerts  a  lesser  thrust 
than  a  semicircular  one.  Vaults  and  walls  could  be  more  freely  de- 
signed with  pointed  arches  than  with  round  ones,  and  they  could  also 
be  more  lightly  and  therefore  more  economically  constructed.  ^ 

All  through  the  finest  Gothic  period  French  vaults  were  built  in  the 
simple  quadripartite  shape  which  is  shown  in  our  drawing  of  the  nave 
of  Amiens,  or  in  the  se.xpartite  shape  of  which  the  early  type  is  shown 
in  the  cut  of  the  choir  of  Canterbury,  the  piers  in  the  former  case  being 
all  alike,  and  in  the  latter  alternating  in  design.  Even  with  pointed 
arch-forms  the  architect  was  not  perfectly  free  to  design  as  he  chose ; 
he  could  not  build  arches  of  any  span  and  height  he  might  desire, 
and  spring  them  all  from  the  same  level,  without  producing  vaulting- 
surfaces  of  awkward  cur\ature,  and  courses  of  masonr)-  twisted,  skewed, 
and  tapering  from  the  diagonals  to  the  wall-ribs.  But  he  could  stilt 
vaulting-ribs  without  producing  forms  as  disagreeable  as  those  which 
result  from  the  stilting  of  round  arches,  because  of  the  less  abrupt  and 
violent  transition  from  the  vertical  spring  of  the  stilted  rib  to  its  steep 
curve  of  large  radius,  as  compared  with  that  occurring  in  the  case  of  a 
stilted  round  arch  with  its  sharper  curve.  All  the  pressure  of  these 
vaults  was  concentrated  by  the  system  of  ribs  upon  the  vaulting-shafts 

1  When  the  history  and  nature  of  the  develop-  southern  .ind  southwestern  provinces  which  are  part 
ment  of  media;val  architecture  were  less  well  un-  of  modern  France ;  and  it  had  also  been  used  in 
derstood  than  they  are  to-day,  many  curious  theories  many  countries  in  far  pre-Christian  times.  It  is  a 
were  propounded  to  account  for  the  introduction  of  very  obvious  constructional  form,  and  its  adoption 
the  pointed  arch  into  northwestern  Europe ;  but  the  to  meet  an  obvious  practical  need  in  twelflh-cen- 
simplest  explanation  is  now  felt  to  be  the  truest.  tury  France  was  in  no  sense  remarkable.  The  re- 
Doubtless  the  familiarity  of  the  Crusaders  with  markable  fact  is  that,  while  elsewhere  it  had  not 
the  pointed  arch  as  used  in  Arabic  architecture  had  structur,iUy  affected  the  design  of  the  buildings  in 
something  to  do  with  its  adojition  in  twelfth-cenlury  which  it  was  employed,  in  northern  France  it  im- 
France.  But  before  the  twelfth  century  it  had  been  mediately  became  the  inspiration  and  main  resource 
employed  in  the  domical  and  barrel  vaults  of  those  of  an  entirely  novel  architectural  scheme. 


24  English  Latlicdyals. 

and  flyin^-huttresses,  and  liy  these  was  transmitted  to  the  piers  and 
aisle-buttresses,  so  that  the  liMing  of  the  spaces  between  the  ribs  could 
be  made  extremely  lii^ht.  But  these  spaces  still  had  to  be  skilfully  con- 
structed as  segments  of  an  arch-like  ceilin_L,^  and  this  involved  much 
intellii^ence  on  the  designer's  and  the  mason's  part. 

It  is  important  here  to  note  a  radical  difference  in  constructional 
spirit  between  the  architects  of  France  and  England,  for  it  determined 
striking  artistic  differences  in  their  work  which  persisted  until  the  latest 
days  of  mediieval  art. 

Great  mathematical  alMlity  has  always  distinguished  the  French  race, 
and  it  nowhere  shows  more  plainly  than  in  the  fact  that  their  Gothic 
architects  were  wonderfully  skilful  stereotomists.  That  is,  they  delighted 
in  clever,  scientific  solutions  of  the  difficult  geometrical  problems  in- 
volved in  the  tasks  of  the  stone-cutter  and  mason.  All  through  the  great 
struggle  with  the  problem  of  vaulting  large  areas,  their  point  of  view 
was  the  geometrical  one.  Curiously  enough,  considering  their  equally 
remarkable  artistic  supremacy,  they  seem  to  have  thought  less  of  the 
artistic  effect  of  their  nave-vaults  than  of  their  scientific  plotting-out  and 
e.xecution  ;  and  the  admirable  shaping  of  their  stones,  with  their  con- 
verging and  twisting  joints,  is  the  marvel  of  modern  builders. 

The  English,  on  tin;  other  hand,  .showed  in  their  treatment  of  this 
great  problem  the  practical  common  .sense  which  has  always  distin- 
guished their  nation.  Their  desire  was  to  build  their  vaults  as  easily  as 
possible.  Therefore,  while  the  French  clung  to  the  simple  early  schemes 
wliicli  involved  large  bokll)-  curved  \ault-surfaces,  the  Engli.sh  soon  mul- 
ti|)lied  their  ribs  and  used  them  in  a  variety  of  ways,  thus  cutting  up 
the  intermediate  surfaces  into  smaller  portions  which  could  be  filled  with 
the  exercise  of  much  less  ingenuity  on  the  part  of  either  the  preparatory 
designer  or  the  executive  artisan. 

The  most  common  type  of  English  ceiling  for  a  while  was  one  where 
a  cluster  of  ribs  spread  upward  from  each  support  in  a  fan-like  way  un- 
til all  the  ribs,  from,  end  to  end  of  the  nave,  impinged  at  equal  intervals 
upon  a  longitudinal  rib  which  followed  the  line  of  the  apex  of  the  vault. 
This  kind  of  ceiling  is  shown,  with  three  ribs  in  each  group,  in  the  pic- 
ture of  tin;  nave  of  Gloucester  in  Chapter  XI,  while  the  effect  of  more 
numerously  membered  groups  is  shown  in  the  illustration  of  the  nave  of 
Lichfield  in  Chapter  \T,  and  is  indicated  in  that  of  the  Angel  Choir  of 
Lincoln  in  Chapter  VII.  Later  on,  many  intermediate  ribs  were  intro- 
duced between  the  main  ones  of  a  vault,  forming  star-vaults  or  lierne- 
vaults  of  close  and  complicated  patterns,  such  as  are  suggested  by  our 


Cathedral  Chnnhes  of  England.  25 

pictures  of  the  choirs  of  Ely  and  Wells,  and  of  the  Lady-chapel  at 
Gloucester ;  and  in  many  of  these  the  intermediate  vaulting-surfaces 
were  so  small  that  (especially  where  vaults  took  so  low  a  curve  as  in  Eng- 
land) they  could  be  kept  almost  flat,  and  each  could  be  filled  with  stone 
without  the  exercise  of  much  more  geometrical  ingenuity  than  would 
have  been  required  to  cover  it  with  wood. 

As  tastes  differ,  so,  of  course,  do  judgments  with  regard  to  the  rela- 
tive degrees  of  beauty  secured  by  French  and  English  vaulting  expe- 
dients. The  modern  Englishman,  and  often  the  American  too,  while 
acknowledging  the  superior  geometrical  excellence  and  lucidity  of  the 
big  simple  French  vaults,  finds  their  few  and  thin  ribs  and  their  plain 
surfaces  cold,  bare,  and  inappropriate  to  the  elaborateness  of  the  lower 
portions  of  a  fully  developed  Gothic  interior,  and  rejoices  when,  once  in 
a  while,  as  over  the  crossing  in  the  cathedral  of  Amiens,  he  finds  that 
even  thirteenth-century  Frenchmen  sometimes  thought  them  too  plain 
and  bare,  and  added  intermediate  ribs  in  considerable  number.  But  a 
modern  French  architect,  analyzing  the  elal^orateness  of  an  English 
vault,  and  seeing  the  reasons  for  it,  is  distressed  by  the  lack  of  thorough 
geometrical  skill  which  it  reveals,  and  finds  its  multitudinous  ribs  and 
bosses  puerile  and  overdone. 

To  me,  the  plainness  of  French  vaults  has  rarely  seemed  unsatisfactory, 
especially  as  their  height  removes  them  so  much  farther  from  the  eye 
than  English  vaults,  while  such  English  vaults  as  those  above  the  naves 
of  Gloucester  and  Lichfield  and  the  Angel  Choir  at  Lincoln  have  always 
seemed  unfortunate  in  expression.  A  longitudinal  rib  following  the  apex 
of  a  vault  appears  to  strengthen  the  vault  just  where  it  needs  strength- 
ening least,  and  accentuates  length  in  ceilings  which  much  more  greatly 
need  to  have  their  height  emphasized  ;  while  ribs  which  rise  in  equal- 
membered  clusters  and  end  at  equal  intervals  from  each  other  along  this 
longitudinal  rib  also  accentuate  length,  and  accord  less  well  than  trans- 
verse and  diagonal  ribs  with  walls  which  are  conspicuously  divided  into 
compartments.  No  interior  covered  in  this  way  has,  it  seems  to  me,  a 
truly  aspiring,  characteristically  Gothic  look.  A  ceiling  like  Lichfield's 
or  Lincoln's  is  hardly  more  Gothic  in  effect  than  a  barrel-vault  of  pointed 
section  would  be.  Indeed,  it  is  easier  to  fancy  that  it  was  evolved  di- 
rectly from  the  barrel-vault  than  to  understand  that  quadripartite  and 
sexpartite  vaults  were  intermediate  between  them. 

The  later  English  ceilings,  with  their  rich  multitude  of  interwoven 
ribs  and  accentuating  bosses,  are  much  more  agreeable  to  the  eye,  and 
are  more  beautiful  than  any  others  when  covering  small  elaborate  rooms 


26  JS)/s[/is/i  Cathedrals. 


ti' 


or  chapels.  But  in  vcr)-  \\W'^v.  constructions  I  think  ihiy  l:u  k  di^nit)-, 
decision,  and  constrnilional  expressiveness.  A  network  seems  to  Iia\e 
been  suhstitutt'd  lor  a  true  framework  of  ribs  ;  even  when  we  know  that 
it  is  a  framework  properly  playing  its  part,  we  do  not  clearly  see  how 
the  pressures  are  transmitted  to  the  t^round.  And  of  course  such  a  net- 
work is  least  pleasiny  when,  as  we  shall  find  to  be  the  case  in  the  choir 
of  \\\lls,  an  actual  barrel-vault  is  covered  with  a  fretwork  of  ribs  wliich 
have  no  real  connection  with  its  structure.  To  sa)-,  however,  that,  e\  en 
when  well  used,  the  Mn^lish  star-vault  or  lierne-vault  is  illoL,ncal  and  in- 
artistic, is  distinctly  misleading.  The  most  elaborate  arrangement  of 
ril)s,  if  it  forms  a  self-supporting  framework,  is  a  strictly  logical  devel- 
opment from  the  first  simple  use  of  diagonal  ribs. 

The  final  development  in  English  vaulting  was,  like  all  the  features 
of  the  Perpentlicular  style,  a  distinct  reaction  from  what  had  gone  before. 
After  thinking  that  he  could  not  build  his  \;uilts  with  loo  man\-  ribs,  the 
architect  conceived  the  idea  ot  l)uiUling  ihrm  with  none  at  all.  ban- 
vaulting  is,  in  fact,  a  sjstem  ot  construction  where  the  body  of  the  vault 
sustains  itself,  and  such  raised  lines  as  may  appear  on  its  surface — 
whether  simulating  ribs  or  not — are  simply  superficial  and  decorative, 
like  the  adornment  of  that  I)arrel-vauU  in  Wells  Cathedral  to  wliitli  1 
have  already  referred  and  which  was  built  in  the  Decorated  period. 
Fan-vaults  are  shown,  as  covering  the  crossing  of  nave  and  tran- 
sept, above  the  great  brace  between  the  piers  in  the  picture  of  the 
nave  of  Wells  in  Chapter  IX,  and  as  roofing  the  cloister  of  Cloucester 
in  Chapter  XI.  As  a  rule-,  it  is  a  great  mistaken  to  think  that  a  new 
architectural  process  was  perfected  all  at  once,  to  say  that  a  new  archi- 
tectural feature  was  invented.  Such  processes  are  almost  always  ten- 
tative at  first ;  such  features  are  almost  always  evolved  rather  than 
createil.  Hut  fan-vaulting  must  have  been  an  e.xception  to  this  rule. 
No  gentle  successive  experimental  steps  can  ha\e  leil  up  to  its  ])er- 
fected  form.  .Some  one  man,  in  .some  one  place,  must  first  have  thought 
of  building  th(!se  great  inverted  cones;  and,  once  conceived,  there  was 
no  reason  wh)-  he  should  not  immediately  build  them  well.  And  this 
man's  work,  it  is  commonl\-  believed,  we  see  in  the  cloister  of  Gloucester. 
Cathedral.  Perhaps  he  got  the  first  idea  of  his  forms  from  those  Early 
English  ceilings  which  show  groups  of  equal  ribs,  or,  vcrx  likely,  from 
the  fan-like  divergence  of  the  ribs  which  spring  from  the  central  col- 
umn in  a  typical  English  chapter-house;  but  the  constructional  scheme 
was  all  his  own.  It  was  quickly  adopted  in  all  parts  of  England,  but 
in   other  coimtries   fan-\aults  are  never  seen. 


Cathedyal  Churches  of  England.  27 


VIII 


I  HOPE  all  this  will  not  read  as  though  my  admiration  for  English 
cathedrals  were  small.  It  is  really  so  great  that  I  despair  of  finding  a 
vocabulary  rich  and  telling  enough  to  express  it.  But  unreasoning 
praise  is  not  the  truest  sort.  One  cannot  rightly  admire  without  un- 
derstanding, or  love  without  appreciating;  and  the  only  way  to  under- 
stand and  appreciate  is  through  processes  of  comparison.  And  if,  in 
learning  the  varied  charm  and  majesty  of  the  great  churches  of  Eng- 
land, we  likewise  learn  that  those  of  another  land  are  in  some  ways 
still  more  wonderful,  need  we  be  distressed  by  the  fact?  It  should 
simply  deepen  our  sense  of  the  superb  ability  of  mediaeval  builders, 
and  heighten  the  pleasure  we  feel  in  any  chance  to  study  the  actual 
work  of  their  hands. 

Moreover,  although  to  enjoy  all  diver.sities  in  architectural  beauty 
we  must  recognize  them  as  diversities,  of  course  we  need  not  always 
be  trying  to  hold  a  critical  balance  true  between  them.  There  is  no 
more  stupid  mood  for  student  or  traveler  than  one  which  refuses  to 
delight  itself  in  anything  but  the  very  best.  The  second  best — yes, 
the  twentieth  best  —  produced  in  the  noble  days  of  art  is  good  enough 
to  give  a  wise  man  pleasure,  and  the  wiser  he  is  the  more  pleasure 
he  will  be  able  to  take  in  it.  We  want  to  learn  in  which  respects  Eng- 
lish cathedrals  surpass  those  of  France  and  in  which  they  are  inferior. 
But  it  would  be  very  foolish,  during  an  English  pilgrimage,  always  to 
defer  to  French  ideals.  Why  indeed  should  we,  pilgrims  from  afar 
whose  fathers  bought  us  better  blessings  by  the  sacrifice  of  our  artistic 
heritage,  feel  always  bound  to  carp  at  the  fact  of  its  rich  diversity  ? 
Unless  we  are  pedants  or  puritans  in  taste,  or  responsible  professors 
of  the  art  of  building,  or  architects  forced  to  choose  texts  for  our  own 
new  efforts  in  the  vast  stone  cyclopaedia  written  by  dead  generations, 
we  need  not  always  be  asking.  Which  is  better,  this  or  that  ?  Most 
often  we  may  feel  that,  whether  French  or  English  churches  are  the 
finer,  it  is  well  for  us  that  French  churches  are  tall  and  Eneli-sh  ones 
are  low ;  that  some  were  reared  on  narrow  ancient  streets  and  others 
on  broad  verdurous  lawns ;  that  we  have  there  the  circling  apse,  with 
its  arching  chapels  and  its  coronal  of  flying-buttresses,  and  here  the 
great  flat  eastern  wall — at  Ely  with  its  lancet-groups,  at  Wells  with  its 
vista  into  lower  further  spaces,  at  Gloucester  with  its  vast  translucent 
tapestry  of  glass.  Surely  the  more  variety  the  better,  for  us  who  have 
not  to  teach  or  to  build  but  only  to  enjoy. 


Chapter  II 


THli  CATHEDRAL  OF  CHRIST  S  CHURCH,  CANTERBURY 


ANTERBURY  Cathedral  was  entirely  rebuilt 
by  the  Normans,  but  it  now  retains  so  little 
Norman  work  that  we  must  go  elsewhere  to 
understand  how  a  Romanesque  church  was 
designed.  The  tourist  who  wishes  really  to 
study  the  development  of  English  architecture 
will  be  wise  if  he  comes  to  Canterbury  only 
after  he  has  been  at  Norwich,  Peterborough, 
and  Durham.  But  when  history's  claims  are  considered  with  those 
of  art,  the  long  cathedral  tale  commences  in  the  Kentish  capital. 
Here  the  conversion  of  the  English  was  begun;  here  the  first  Christian 
shepherd  of  the  English  had  his  seat;  it  was  not  the  chair  of  a  bishop 
merely,  but  the  throne  of  a  primate;  and  in  it  the  Primate  of  All  Eng- 
land still  sits  to-day.  Whatever  we  may  do  when  we  travel,  we  should 
read  first  of  the  cathedral  which  is  the  mother-church  of  England  by 
the  double  title  of  earliest  birth  and  constant  rule.' 


In  this  delectably  little  island  the  same  viise-en-scene  has  often 
served  for  the  playing  out  of  various  dramas.  The  soil  is  everywhere 
rich  with  buried  history  and  set  thick  with  the  artistic  relics  of  all  eras, 
and  the  air  is  never  free  from  mighty  memories.  Britain  among  the 
lands  is  as  Rome  among  the  cities  :   the  story  of  any  one  of  her  districts 


1  The  cliicf  authority  for  students  of  this  church  is 
Professor  Willis's  "  Architectural  History  of  Canter- 
bury Cathedral,"  published  in  1845,  but  now  unfor- 
tunately out  of  print.  It  cont.iiiis  translations  from 
all  the  ancient  writers  who  mentioned  the  building, 
chief  among  whom  were  Eadmer  the  Singer,  who  was 
a  boy  in  the  convent  school  in  the  time  of  I.aiifranc, 


and  Gervase,  who  was  a  monk  of  Christ's  Church  when 
the  Norman  choir  was  burned  and  the  present  one 
erected.  A  mass  of  varied  and  interesting  informa- 
tion is  contained  in  Dean  Stanley's  "Historical 
Memorials  of  Canterbury,"  while  the  cathedral  of 
.Sens  is  described  in  Naudin's  "  pastes  de  la  .Senonie  " 
and,  of  course,  in  Viollet-le-Duc's  "  Dictionnaire." 


The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury.        29 

is  as  difficult  to  tell  in  brief  as  the  story  of  any  Roman  site.  Rarely 
indeed  can  we  say,  For  this  reason  is  this  place  of  interest.  There 
are  usually  a  score  of  reasons,  a  dozen  interests  of  successive  date; 
and  we  often  come  upon  historic  repetitions  of  so  happy  a  sort  that 
they  seem  to  have  been  planned  by  some  great  cosmic  playwright  in  the 
interest  of  artistic  unity,  of  'dramatic  point  and  concentration.  There 
were,  for  instance,  many  spots  along  the  coast  where  St.  Augustine 
might  have  landed  when  he  was  on  his  way  to  Canterbury  and  the 
court  of  Ethelbert.  But  the  spot  where  he  did  land  chanced  to  be  on 
the  Isle  of  Thanet  at  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  just  where  the  first  of 
those  heathen  English  whom  he  came  to  convert  had  disembarked  a 
century  and  a  half  before. 

The  cathedral  which  he  soon  established  with  archiepiscopal  rank  has 
always  remained  the  mother-church  of  England ;  but  in  one  sense  the 
term  is  still  better  deserved  by  little  St.  Martin's  high  above  it  on  the  east- 
ward hill.  Look  narrowly  at  these  ancient  walls  and  you  will  find  em- 
bedded in  them  fragments  more  ancient  still, — bits  of  Roman  brick  which 
tell  that  when  St.  Augustine  came  in  the  year  597  there  stood  on  this 
same  site  a  tiny  British  church.  Somehow  it  had  weathered  the  storms 
of  pagan  years  and  now  was  the  private  oratory  of  Queen  Bertha,  who 
had  been  taught  Christianity  in  her  early  home  at  Paris.  Here  St. 
Augustine  held  his  first  service  under  an  island  roof,  here  he  baptized 
his  first  convert,  —  King  Ethelbert  himself, — and  hence  he  passed  as  con- 
secrated primate  with  banner  and  silver  cross  and  pomp  of  singing  down 
through  the  beautiful  valley  of  the  Stour  to  the  royal  town  beneath. 
Although  it  is  very  old,  St.  Martin's  has  certainly  been  rebuilt  since  the 
si.xth  century,  and  none  but  the  most  easy-going  of  sentimentalists  will 
believe  quite  all  he  is  told  about  its  furniture  and  tombs.  But,  disin- 
herited of  gray  memorials  by  the  accident  of  birth  across  the  sea,  we 
find  it  interesting  enough  to  stand  upon  a  spot  where  such  tales  can 
be  told  with  any  color  of  likelihood;  and  besides,  from  the  shadow  of  St. 
Martin's  dusky  yews,  which  represent  the  first  tiny  rootlet  of  Eng- 
lish Christianity,  we  get  the  finest  possible  outlook  upon  that  greater 
church  which  typifies  the  full-grown  faith.  Gazing  across  the  broad 
valley  to  its  far-off  western  hills,  we  see  the  town  in  the  low  middle 
distance  with  the  remains  of  the  great  suburban  monastery  founded  by 
St.  Augustine  and  named  for  him,  and,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  pictui^;, 
the  cathedral  that  he  called  Christ's  Church  uplifting  its  gigantic  towers 
and  showing  in  the  mere  spread  of  its  transept  a  length  so  great  that  it 
may  easily  be  mistaken  for  the  length  of  nave  and  choir  instead.      If  an 


30 


English  CatJicdrals. 


•m.mM'-.^:^S!>M 


_A\  1  1J:|:I   l'\     I  l:i  iM 


HIE  NORTHKAST. 


American  could  see  but  one  linglish  landscape,  he  might  well  choose 
this;  and  if  he  could  choose  his  hour,  it  might  well  be  from  one  of 
those  summer  afternoons  when  the  witchery  of  sloping  light  enhances 
the  charms  of  color,  and  shines  through  the  perforations  of  far-off  pin- 
nacle and  parapet  uniil  their  stone  looks  like  lace  against  the  sky  anil 
their  outlines  seem  to  waver  in  harmony  with  the  lines  of  clouil  above. 

Sentiment  in  the  traveler  means,  I  think,  something  close  akin  to 
the  love  of  symbolism.  It  asks  for  correspondence  between  body  and 
spirit.  It  demands  that  sight  and  imagination  shall  be  gratified  to- 
gether, that  a  town  shall  keep  to  the  eye  the  tacit  promise  conveyed 
b\-  the  sound  of  its  name.  .As  we  travel,  sentiment  is  disappointed, 
alas,  how  very  often!  But  Canterbury  keeps  its  promises  with  un- 
usual fidelity. 

From  afar  it  seems  not  so  much  a  town  as  a  great  solitary  church 
standing  on  a  slight  elevation  and  backed  by  higher  hills.  And  a 
humble  town  it  is  in  fact,  low-roofed  and  narrow-bordered,  with  no 
touch  of  municipal  dignity  and  no  evidence  of  private  wealth,  breathing 


The  Cathedral  of  Chrisf  s  Church,  Canterbury.         31 

a  breath  of  almost  country  air,  basking  sleepily  in  a  mood  of  almost  rural 
quiet,  resting  meekly  at  the  foot  of  its  mighty  church,  guarding  tenderly 
the  ruins  of  its  great  monastic  houses.  But  in  all  this  we  find  no  dis- 
appointment, for  the  greatness  of  Canterbury  was  never  material.  It 
was  spiritual,  or,  if  I  try  for  the  truest  term,  it  was  emblematic.  Canter- 
bury's power  was  simply  the  power  of  those  great  men  who,  taking  their 
name  from  her,  were  less  often  within  her  gates  than  far  away,  helping 
or  hindering  kings  and  parliaments  in  their  ruling  of  the  land  ;  and  the 
authority  she  delegated  to  them  stood  not  upon  temporal  but  upon 


CANTERBURY    FROM   THE  WEST. 


ecclesiastical  might.  So  it  is  fitting  that  she  should  have  been  small 
and  modest  in  street  and  square,  great  and  beautiful  only  in  the  body 
of  her  splendid  temple. 

In  mediaeval  days  her  walls  were  of  course  complete;  the  Conquer- 
or's castle,  now  a  wreck,  was  haughtily  conspicuous;  and  sleepiness  was 
certainly  not  her  mood  while  she  witnessed  the  sumptuous  living  and 
parading  of  bishop,  abbot,  priest,  and  knight,  and  the  bloody  wrangling  of 
each  with  the  others,  and  felt  the  jjulsing  of  that  vast  pilgrim-tide  which 
brought  from  every  English  shire  and  every  foreign  land  its  motley 
myriads  to  the  wonder-working  shrine  of  Thomas  Becket.  But,  never- 
theless, the  city  itself  must  have  been  so  nearly  the  same  in  general 
effect  that  we  can  easily  people  it  anew  with  its  tumultuous  shows  of 
faith  and  superstition,  force  and  fraud,   liumility,   luxury,   pride,   licen- 


32 


E)ig/is/i  Cafhciiyals. 


tiousness,  and  greed.  Modern  growth  has  not  burst  its  ancient  body 
asunder  and  reworked  it  into  a  hu-ger  shape.  Nor,  on  the  other 
hand,  has  modern  Hfe  gone  wholly  from  its  streets  and  left  them  to 


MERCEKV    LANE.' 


solitude  and  death.  Canterbury  is  alive  despite  the  long  cessation  of 
the  ecclesiastical  industries  of  old  ;  she  is  not  dead,  but  merely  dozing 
in  a  peace  unbroken  by  the  rushing  secular  traffic  of  to-day. 


II 


TiiF,    main    approach   to   the    cathedral    has    always    been    through 
Mercery  Lane,  which  took  its  title  from  the  arcades  of  booths  where 

1  The  house  to  the  left  of  ihe  picture  stands  on  the  spot  where  stood  the  Checquers  Inn  of  Chaucer's 
time,  and  the  old  vaulted  cellars  still  exist  beneath  it. 


The  Cathedral  of  Chrisf s  Church,  Canterbury.         33 

mementos  of  pilgrimage  were  sold.  Christ's  Church  Gateway,  which 
now  marks  its  termination,  is  a  fine  bit  of  Perpendicular  work  dating 
from  the  early  years  of  the  sixteenth  century.  Underneath  it  we  pass 
into  a  broad  turfed  space,  still  called  the  Churchyard,  which  was  once 
the  burial-ground  for  pilgrims  who  had  died  at  their  goal  ;  and  from 
here  the  western  front  of  the  cathedral  and  its  long  south  side  show  in 
a  perspective  of  lordly  picturesqueness. 


'":.__;;:     '3'-'-'      •)_,:.■»  lf."fjr-. 


CHRIST'S   CHURCH   GATEWAY    FROM    MERCERY   LANE. 


On  this  spot  too,  as  well  as  on  the  eastern  hill,  St.  Augustine  found 
a  surviving  British  church  which  he  reconsecrated  and  repaired.  It  is 
said  to  have  been  a  basilica  imitated  from  old  St.  Peter's  in  Rome, 
without  a  transept,  but  with  an  apse  at  either  end.  Unchanged,  it 
seems  to  have  served  the  archbishops  of  England  until  the  tenth 
century  ;  and  thereafter,  largely  rebuilt  and  with  heightened  walls  but 
still  essentially  the  same,  it  housed  them  for  a  century  more.      Hither 


Emr/is/i  Catlicihiils. 


'^5 


Dunstan,  the  mightiest  of  ante-Norman  prelates,  came  to  begin  his 
rule  of  the  Church  while  persisting  in  his  efforts  to  rule  the  State. 
Here  he  warred  against  his  political  enemies  and  the  great  enemy  of 
mankind,  but  with  peculiar  vigor  against  the  secular  clergy. 

The  story  of  such  old  ecclesiastic  fights  is  interesting  by  virtue  of  its 
departure  from  what  seem  to  us  proi)crly  ecclesiastic  methods  of  com- 
bat. There  is  a  mine  of  strange  suggestiveness  in  Dean  Milman's 
phrase:  "  It  was  not  by  law,  but  by  the  armed  invasion  of  cathedral 
after  cathedral,  that  the  married  clergy  were  ejected  and  the  Benedic- 
tines installed  in  \.\\v\x  places."  Yet  did  not  "the  dove  which  erst  was 
seen  of  John  in  Jordan"  hover  over  Dunstan  in  a  burst  of  celestial 
light  at  the  hour  which  made  him  primate  ?  Was  he  not  a  visible 
chilli  of  heaven  and  a  miracle-worker  while  he  lived,  and  a  saint  and 
still  greater  miracle-worker  after  death?  Archbishop  Alphege,  who 
accepted  murder  from  the  Danes  rather  than  rob  his  people  and  live  by 
the  gold  wliich  he  knew  would  Init  bribe  to  further  rapine  and  bloodshed, 
was  also  canonized  and  also  wrought  marvels  with  his  bones ;  and 
these  two  saints,  whose  fame  reposed  on  such  very  different  grounds,  were 
supreme  in  the  archiepiscopal  storehouse  of  relics — lying  on  either  side 
of  the  great  altar  in  which  was  enshrined  the  head  of  St.  Wilfrid  of 
Ripon — until  St.  Thomas  arrived  with  a  higher  title  still.  True  saint 
or  not,  however,  Dunstan  was  a  mighty  artist  before  the  Lord,  work- 
ing with  pen  and  brush,  in  gold  and  silver  and  brass  and  iron,  in  the 
casting  of  bells,  in  the  making  of  musical  instruments,  and  the  making 
of  music  upon  them.  Richer  clay  than  modern  nature  uses  must  have 
formed  the  substance  of  these  famous  men  of  old,  meddlers  in  every 
department  of  human  effort  and  easily  masters  in  all. 

Twenty-three  years  after  Dunstan  died  there  happened,  in  loi  i,  the 
murder  of  Archbishop  Alphege  and  the  sacking  of  the  cathedral  by  the 
Danes.  Canute  repaired  it  as  best  he  could,  and  hung  up  his  golden 
crown  in  vicarious  atonement  for  his  fellow-countrymen's  sacrilege. 
But  the  last  archbishop  to  stand  within  its  shattered,  patched-up  walls 
was  that  Stigand  whose  figure  shows  so  vividly  on  the  striking  page 
where  Freeman  has  painted  Harold  struggling  witli  the  Conqueror. 
When  William  came  to  Harold's  throne  and  Archbishop  Lanfranc  to 
-Stigand's,  Norman  fires  had  completed  what  Danish  fires  had  begun. 
Lanfranc  was  compelled  to  build  an  entirely  new  church,  and  naturally 
began  it  in  the  "new  Norman  manner,"  after  the  pattern  of  St.  Stephen's 
church  at  Caen  on  the  Norman  mainland;  and  in  the  short  space  of 
seven  years  he  had  raised  it  "from  the  very  foundations  and  rendered 


The  Cathedral  of  Ch/isf  s  Church,  Canterbury.         35 

it  nearly  perfect."  Only  a  few  years  afterward,  however,  during  the 
primacy  of  Anselm,  Lanfranc's  choir  was  pulled  down  and  reconstructed 
on  a  much  larger  scale.  Ernulph  and  Conrad,  successively  priors  of 
the  convent,  were  the  architects  of  this  new  choir,  which  was  conse- 
crated in  the  year  1130,  when  Henry  I.  of  England  was  present  with 
David  of  Scotland  and  "every  bishop  of  the  realm,"  and  so  famous 
a  dedication  had  "never  been  heard  of  since  the  dedication  of  the 
temple  of  Solomon." 

This  was  the  church  —  Lanfranc's  nave  and  Anselm's  choir — in 
which  Becket  was  murdered  on  December  29,  1 1  70.  But  four  years 
later  it  was  half  ruined  by  a  great  catastrophe  described  in  graphic 
words  by  Gervase,  an  eye-witness.  He  gives  Anselm's  reconstruction 
the  name  of  one  of  its  architects.  The  "glorious  choir  of  Conrad,"  he 
says,  caught  fire  in  the  night,  cinders  and  sparks  blowing  up  from  cer- 
tain burning  dwellings  near  at  hand  and  getting,  unperceived,  a  fatal 
headway  between  "the  well-painted  ceiling  below  and  the  sheet-lead 
covering  above."  But  the  flames  at  last  beginning  to  show  themselves, 
"a  cry  arose  in  the  churchyard,  'See,  see,  the  churcJi  is  burning!''' 
Valiantly  worked  monks  and  people  together  to  save  it.  The  nave 
was  rescued,  but  the  whole  choir  perished,  and  "  the  house  of  God, 
hitherto  delightful  as  a  paradise  of  pleasures,  was  now  made  a  despica- 
ble heap  of  ashes." 

Monks  and  people  then  addressed  themselves  to  lamentation  with  true 
mediceval  fervor.  They  "were  astonished  that  the  Almighty  should 
suffer  such  things,  and,  maddened  with  excess  of  grief  and  perplexity, 
they  tore  their  hair  and  beat  the  walls  and  pavement  of  the  church 
with  their  heads  and  hands,  blaspheming  the  Lord  and  his  saints,  the 
patrons  of  the  church.  Neither  can  mind  conceive  nor  words  e.xpress 
nor  writing  teach  their  grief  and  anguish.  Truly,  that  they  might 
alleviate  their  miseries  and  anguish  with  a  little  consolation,  they 
put  together,  as  well  as  they  could,  an  altar  and  station  in  the  nave 
of  the  church,  where  they  might  wail  and  howl  rather  than  sing  the 
nocturnal  services." 

Is  not  the  value  men  set  upon  their  work  a  reflex  of  the  amount  of 
enthusiasm  they  have  put  into  its  making?  Should  we  not  know,  with- 
out further  witness,  that  an  age  which  could  lament  like  this  must  have 
been  an  age  of  mighty  builders?  And  indeed  these  Canterbury  folk 
went  mightily  to  work  when  the  first  spasm  of  rage  and  grief  and  fear 
had  passed.  French  and  English  architects  were  called  in  to  give  ad- 
vice, and  a  Frenchman,  William  of  Sens,  "on  account  of  his  livelv  jjenius 


36 


III  I  ij/is/i  Ca  til  i  •(  h-als. 


and  good  reputation,"  was  chosen  to  hetjin  the  rebuihhng.'  Though 
he  had  labored  only  four  years  when  a  fall  from  a  scaffold  forced  him 
to  relinquish  his  task,  he  had  finished  the  walls  of  choir  and  presbytery, 
and  was  j^reparing  to  turn  their  vaults.  His  successor — also  "  William 
by  name"  though  "English  by  nation,  small  in  body  but  in  workman- 


CANTERBURY  FROM  THE  NORTHWEST. 


ship  of  many  kinds  acute  and  honest"  —  constructed  the  retrochoir 
for  Becket's  shrine  and  the  circular  terminal  chapel  now  known  as 
"Becket's  Crown." 

The  goodly  work  of  these  two  Williams  still  stands  as  when  they 
wrought  it,  to  the  glory,  one  cannot  but  confess,  rather  of  St.  Thomas 
than  of  God.  Lanfranc's  nave  and  transept,  being  in  "  notorious  and 
evident  state  of  ruin,"  were  rebuilt  in  the  fourteenth  century,  in  thv, 
earliest  version  of  the  Perpendicular  style.  The  southwestern  tower 
was  replaced  in  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century,  and  about  1500 
the  great  central  tower  was  raised  above  the  crossing,  while  the  north- 

1  Sens  was  in  intimate  relations  with  Canterbury  during  a  long  period,  and  Becket  himself  had  spent  much 
time  there  while  in  exile.      His  episcopal  robes  are  still  preserved  in  the  treasury  of  its  cathedral. 


The  CatJiedral  of  Clirisf  s  Church,  Canterbury.         2>7 

western  tower  survived  as  Lanfranc  had  left  it  until  1834,  when,  alas,  it 
was  pulled  down  and  rebuilt  to  "match"  its  Perpendicular  companion. 


in 

To  understand  the  cathedral  as  it  is  to-day  we  must  understand  St. 
Thomas's  posthumous  part  therein.  We  must  know  the  role  that  relic- 
worship  played,  more  or  less  through  many  centuries  and  in  every  part 
of  Christendom,  but  with  especial  architectural  emphasis  in  the  twelfth 
century  and  on  English  soil. 

Then  and  there  the  fame  and  frequentation,  the  wealth  and  power  of 
a  church  depended  chiefly  upon  the  relics  it  possessed  or  could  lay 
plausible  claim  to  owning.  From  the  armed  hand  to  the  lying  mouth, 
the  bribing  ducat  and  the  secret  theft,  there  was  no  device  which  holy 
ecclesiastics  scorned  or  feared  to  use  in  their  great  task  of  enriching 
their  churches  with  the  blood  and  bones  and  heterogeneous  relics  of 
departed  sainthood.  For  many  years  the  neighboring  monastery  of 
St.  Augustine  outranked  the  cathedral  establishment  of  Canterbury  in 
every  way  except  in  dignity  of  name,  because,  in  deference  to  an  old 
law  forbidding  intramural  interments,  the  bodies  of  St.  Augustine  him- 
self and  his  immediate  successors  had  been  placed  in  its  suburban  keep- 
ing. But  Cuthbert,  the  twelfth  archbishop,  says  Gervase,  "sought  and 
obtained  from  Rome  the  right  of  free  burial  for  Christ's  Church.  He 
was  the  first  who,  by  the  will  of  God,  the  authority  of  the  high  pontiff, 
and  the  permission  of  the  King  of  England,  was  buried  in  Christ's 
Church,  and  so  also  were  all  his  successors  save  one  alone,  named  Jam- 
bert."  The  profit  to  house  and  church  was  immediate,  for  almost  every 
archbishop  of  Canterbury  seems,  in  those  days,  to  have  been  canonized. 
But  what  immense  gain  might  result  from  such  an  innovation  was  more 
clearly  shown  when  Becket  went  bleeding  to  his  tomb  and,  as  St.  Thomas 
of  Canterbury,  became  the  most  famous  intercessor  in  all  Europe. 

Before  this  time  the  custom  of  burying  saints  behind  the  high  altar 
instead  of  in  the  crypt  beneath  had  been  well  established;  and  when 
Anselm  pulled  down  Lanfranc's  new  choir  simply  that  he  might  build 
a  larger,  it  was  certainly  in  deference  to  the  growing  need  for  proper 
sepulchral  space.  It  is  true  that  Becket  himself  was  first  buried  in  the 
crypt.  But  the  reason  and  manner  of  his  death,  with  the  haste,  terror, 
and  intimidation  which  followed,  were  the  choosers  of  his  grave.  When, 
four  years  later,  Anselm's  choir  was  burned,  Becket  was  already  can- 
onized and  world-renowned;   and  when  it  was  rebuilt  his  due  enshrine- 

3* 


38  RuglisJi  Caflicdnils. 

ment  was  the  main  concern.  Often  hereafter  we  shall  see  how  the  choir 
of  a  cathedral  grew  to  its  enormous  size  through  its  ownership  of  some 
saint's  dust,  but  nowhere  is  a  saint's  dominion  so  plainly  petrified  as  at 
Canterbury. 

Rarely  has  so  honorable  a  monument  been  decreed  a  mortal;  and 
rarely  has  a  mortal  who  stands  well  within  the  borders  of  authentic 
history  been  so  diversely  judged.  Unfortunately,  most  of  our  early 
ideas  about  Becket  came  to  us  as  part  of  our  Puritanical  inheritance, 
dictated  in  utter  oblivion  of  the  unlikeness  of  his  time  to  ours.  And 
still  more  unfortunately,  the  most  brilliant  account  of  him  that  appeals 
to  adult  eyes  is  Mr.  Froude's,  written  by  a  pen  which  brought  to  tlie  task 
of  an  historian  the  methods  of  a  prosecuting  attorney. 

Of  course  the  most  obvious  thing  to  say  about  Becket  is  that  he  was 
fighting  against  the  Crown  and  for  the  Church  and  a  foreign  head  of 
the  Church;  and  Church  against  State  in  the  world  of  to-day  would  of 
course  mean  menace  to  men's  liberties.  But  the  twelfth  centur)  was 
not  the  nineteenth,  or  even  the  sixteenth,  and  when  its  own  perspective 
is  understood  it  shows  us  Becket  in  a  very  different  light.  It  shows 
that  he  was  no  saint  as  we  count  saints  to-day,  no  churchman  or  states- 
man of  a  pattern  we  should  praise  to-day,  and  perhaps  not  consciously 
a  cliampion  of  the  people  while  an  opponent  of  the  king;  but  neverthe- 
less a  great,  almost  an  heroic.  Englishman,  in  every  way  a  brave  man, 
in  many  things  a  wise  man,  after  current  lights  a  conscientious  one, 
and,  whether  designedly  or  not,  a  mighty  agent  in  winning  the  long 
fight  for  English  liberty.  It  is  here  his  name  should  be  enrolled,  in  the 
narrative  of  that  long  struggle  which  began  with  the  very  birth  of  the 
English  people — before  the  actual  birth  of  the  English  nation  —  and 
by  no  means  closed  on  the  scaffold  of  King  Charles.  With  all  its  faults, 
the  Church  of  Becket's  day  was  the  only  possible  helper  of  the  people. 
With  all  his  tyrannous  intentions,  the  Bishop  of  Rome  was  just  then 
a  less  dangerous  shepherd  than  Henry,  the  Angevin  king.  When  we 
read  the  signature  of  a  later  archbishop  on  the  Great  Charter  of  free- 
dom—  when  we  find  Stephen  Langton  heading  the  list  of  those  who 
compelled  King  John  to  do  the  nation's  will,  and  defying  at  once  the 
despotisms  of  royalty  and  of  Rome — it  is  but  just  to  remember  that 
Becket,  defying  royalty  in  the  name  of  Rome,  combating  a  ruler  far 
more  powerful  than  John,  had  taken  the  first  step  which  made  Lang- 
ton's  step  secure.  A  later  Henry  saw  this  truth.  "Reforming"  the 
Church  less  with  the  wish  to  purify  religion  than  to  extend  the  royal 
power,   Henry  \nil.   had    St.    Thomas's    shrine    destroyed,   his   body 


The  Cathednil  of  Christ' s  Church,  Cantcrbnyy.         39 


'^.-     ^ 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM   CHRIST'S  CHURCH   GATEWAY. 


40  Ritglish  Cathedrals. 

burned,  his  face  obliteratLtl  from  painted  glass,  antl  his  name  stricken 
from  calendar  and  mass-book,  more  because  he  had  been  a  "traitor" 
than  because  he  had  become  a  fosterer  of  superstition.  The  blood  of  a 
martyr  was  in  Bcckct's  case  the  seed  of  wealth  and  power  to  the  Church 
and  of  some  more  or  less  pious  kind  of  piety,  as  well  as  of  that  frightful 
dissoluteness  which  the  old  poets  paint  as  the  result  of  Canterbury 
pilgrimages.  But  its  greatest  interest  for  us  is  as  one  of  the  germs  of 
that  splendid  stock  of  English  freedom  to  which  Americans,  as  well  as 
Englishmen,  are  the  fortunate  heirs.  The  archbishop  who  gave  his 
life  to  uphold  the  standard  of  the  Church  against  the  blows  of  the  king, 
and  the  Puritan  who  beat  down  king  and  Church  together  beneath  the 
standard  of  liberty,  had  more  in  common  than  either  in  his  day  could 
possibly  have  understood.  We  may  stand  with  reverence  by  the  now 
shrineless  centre  of  Canterbury's  retrochoir,  as  well  as  by  tl>e  vacant 
chapel  in  Westminster  Abbey  where  the  bones  of  Crt)nnvill  briefly  lay. 


IV 

If  one  comes  from  the  Continent,  it  is  a  surprise  to  find  only  a  single 
little  unused  doorway  in  the  west  fagade  at  Canterbury,  and  to  see  the 
main  entrance  in  a  great  porch  projecting  from  the  southern  side  of 
the  southwestern  tower.  This,  however,  is  the  most  characteristically 
Flnglish  position  for  the  main  entrance  to  a  church,  as  is  proved  by 
very  many  of  those  rural  churches  which,  more  wholly  than  their  vaster 
sisters,  were  the  outcome  of  local  tastes  and  old  traditions.  In  a  huge 
church  like  Canterbury's,  great  western  portals  are  indisputably  better 
from  an  architectural  point  of  view.  Yet  for  once  we  may  be  glad  to 
find  so  English  a  feature  as  the  southern  porch,  because  it  alone  speaks 
a  word  to  remind  us  of  the  original  cathedral.  All  that  survives  to 
suggest  the  church  of  the  British-Roman  Christians,  of  St.  Augustine, 
Dunstan,  Alphege,  and  Stigand,  is  this  successor  of  that  great  "Suth- 
dure  "  where,  says  an  old  I"lnglisli  writer,  "all  disputes  from  the  whole 
kingdom  which  cannot  legally  be  referred  to  the  king's  court  or  to  the 
hundreds  or  counties  do  receive  judgment." 

Passing  through  it  into  the  extreme  west  end  of  the  church,  we  see 
the  nave  as  Chaucer's  pilgrims  saw  it,  only  now  it  is  bare  and  then  it 
was  clothed.  Five  centuries  have  wrought  a  great  change,  but  only  a 
superficial  one — a  decorative,  not  an  architectural  change.  I  need 
hardly  explain  why  and  how  all  beauty  save  that  of  the  stones  them- 


The  Cathedral  of  Chiisf  s  Church,  Canterbury.        41 

selves  has  vanished.  The  chartered  havoc  of  King  Henry's  delegates 
and  the  lawless  havoc  of  Cromwell's  are  among  the  most  familiar  scenes 
of  history;  and  every  tourist  knows  enough  to  take  account,  as  well,  of 
eighteenth-century  neglect  and  whitewash  and  of  modern  "restoration." 
In  the  old  days  an  interior  like  this  was  covered  in  every  inch  of  wall 
and  floor  and  ceiling  with  color  and  gold  in  tints  that  charmed  the  eye  and 
figures  that  warmed  emotion,  and  was  lighted  by  windows  like  colossal 
gems  and  tapers  like  innumerable  stars — color  and  light  and  incense- 
smoke  mingling  together  to  work  a  tone  of  radiant  depth  and  strength. 
It  was  furnished  with  altars,  tombs,  chantries,  trophies,  statues,  and  em- 
broidered hangings,  trodden  by  troops  of  gaudily  dressed  ecclesiastics, 
and  filled  with  a  never-lessening  crowd  of  worshipers.  To-day  it  is 
bare  and  cold  and  glaring,  scraped  to  the  very  bone,  stripped  of  all 
except  the  architect's  first  result,  and  empty  even  of  facilities  for  occa- 
sional prayer;  for  at  Canterbury,  as  in  many  another  English  church 
of  largest  size,  only  the  screened-off  choir  is  put  to  use,  while  the  nave 
is  abandoned  to  the  sight-seer's  undevoutness.  Protestantism,  from  an 
artistic  point  of  view,  is  not  a  very  successful  guardian  of  Catholic 
cathedrals. 

Even  in  its  present  state,  the  effect  of  Canterbury's  nave  is  majestic 
and  tremendous  as  we  enter,  although  on  the  ground-level  we  can  see 
only  the  nave  itself,  and,  higher  up,  above  tall  barriers  of  central  screen 
and  iron  aisle-gates,  only  dim  vistas  of  upper  arcades  and  arched  choir- 
ceilings.  In  certain  other  cathedrals  all  the  old  barriers  to  foot  and  eye 
have  recently  been  swept  away,  and  the  change  is  usually  considered 
happy  ;  but  it  is  a  question  whether,  given  the  peculiar  elongated  plan 
of  English  churches,  the  realization  of  magnitudes  thus  secured  is  not 
too  dearly  bought. 

To  decide  this  question,  it  is  certainly  best  to  put  French  ideals 
out  of  mind.  In  a  long,  low,  and  narrow  English  church,  with  its  far- 
projecting  transepts,  great  mystery  and  impressiveness  spring  from 
the  old  arrangement — a  mystery  as  of  holier  holies  beyond  the  first, 
an  impressiveness  as  of  endless  spaces  extending  from  this  space 
already  so  enormous,  a  suggestion  not  of  mere  magnitude  but  of  infini- 
tude. These  have  a  potent  charm;  and  why  not  preserve  this  charm  to 
the  full,  since,  with  such  a  ground-plan,  no  degree  of  openness  can  pro- 
duce the  French  effect  of  colossal  unity  ?  In  fact,  these  English  churches 
were  meant  to  be  divided,  and  the  historic  as  well  as  the  artistic  sense  is 
hurt  by  opening  them  out.  They  were  not  intended  first  of  all  for  lay- 
men's accommodation,  as  were  the  cathedrals  built  by  the  commimcs  of 


42  English  Cathcdnils. 

France  to  meet  their  civic  no  less  than  llicir  rehgious  needs.  They 
were  special  phices  of  worshii)  lor  the  calhcth-al  chapter.  The  people 
were  given  free  access  to  the  nave,  and  at  proper  limes  were  admitted 
within  the  eastern  limb  to  gaze  upon  its  crowning  glories  and  to  pay 
reverence  to  its  holy  dead.  But  they  did  not  belong  there,  and  the 
old  screens  express  the  fact. 

The  peculiarit)-  of  the  Canterbury  arrangement  is  that  tlie  choir- 
screen,  standing  betwi.vt  the  piers  to  the  eastward  of  the  crossing,  is  at 
the  top  of  a  (light  of  steps  which  rise  from  a  high  platform  that  fills  the 
whole  of  the  crossing  and  is  itself  approached  by  another  flight  ascend- 
ing from  the  nave.'  If  from  the  balustrade  of  this  plallorm  we  look 
down  into  the  north  arm  of  the  transept,  we  see  the  very  spot  where 
Becket  fell,  and  even  some  of  the  very  stones  that  saw  his  fall.  In  the 
reconstruction  of  the  fourteenth  century  there  were  left  undisturbed 
a  fragment  of  the  eastern  wall  of  the  transept  against  which  he 
braced  himself  when  the  hot  hand-to-hand  fight  was  nearly  over,  and 
a  piece  of  the  pavt'UK-iU  on  which  his  i)rains  were  scattered  1)\'  ihe 
point  of  Hugh  de  liorsea's  sword,  while  the  doorway  through  which 
he  had  entered  from  the  cloister  was  not  wholly  destro)ed.  All 
the  rest  of  the  Norman  transept-arm  is  gone,  including  the  pillar, 
supporting  an  upper  chapel,  to  which  he  clung  for  a  moment,  and  the 
stairs  by  w-hich  he  sought  to  reach  the  altar.  But  the  exact  situation 
of  these  last  is  shown  by  a  corresponding  flight  which  still  exists  in 
the  south  transept-arm ;  and  altogether  it  needs  scarcely  an  effort  to 
bring  the  whole  tragedy  back  to  mind  exactly  as  it  passed  in  that  dim 
December  twilight. 

Few  tragedies  in  history  or  in  story  have  been  so  grandiosely  mourn- 
ful as  this  which  shows  us  a  great  leader  ensnared  by  generous  con- 
fidence, with  a  cursing  band  of  royal  bloodhounds  at  his  throat,  and  all 
his  monkish  friends  save  three  in  howling  flight;  retreating  step  by 
step  and  growing  prouder  and  sterner  with  each,  not  for  an  instant 
demoralized  into  flight  himself;  fighting  with  voice  and  hand  till  fight 
showed  itself  vain,  and  then  accepting  death  with  noble  composure  and 
meek  words  of  prayer,  falling  beneath  the  cruel  thrusts  so  calmly  that 
the  folds  of  his  clothing  were  undisturbed.     If  it  was  not  the  death  of  a 

1  The  steps  which  lead  up  to  the  platform  between  form  and  the  nave.     As  a  Lady-cha|)el  then  filled  the 

the  western  piers  of  the  crossing  are  not  marked  on  opening  from  the  north  nave-aisle  into  the  transept, 

our  plan.     While  Lanfranc's  nave  existed  an  altar  pilgrims  visiting  the  scene  of  the  martyrdom  could 

stood  on  the  ])latform,  and  another  screen  —  the  true  approach  only  through  a  passage  leading  underneath 

rood-screen,  bearing  a  great  crucifix  and  the  figures  the  platform  from  the  south  transept-arm  —  greatly, 

of  the  Virgin  and  St.  John  —  rose  between  the  plat-  of  course,  to  the  increase  of  dramatic  effectiveness. 


The  CatJicdyal  of  Clirisf  s  CJmrcJi,  Canterbury.         43 


martyr,  it  was  surely  the  death  of  a  man  who  believed  in  the  virtue  of 
his  cause.  The  thrilling  tale  is  told  with  such  exceptional  fullness  by 
contemporary  mouths,  and  the  place  where 
we  recall  it  is  so  appropriately  impressive, 
that  we  can  hardly  turn  our  thoughts  to  the 
hundred  other  memories  which  haunt  the 
cathedral's  air.  Nor  has  it  even  yet  dropped 
out  of  the  popular  mind.  A  shabby,  grimy 
personage — a  tramping  artisan  by  his  bag 
of  tools — spoke  to  me  one  morning  in  the 
deserted  nave  while  service  was  being  read 
in  the  choir,  and  after  a  very  confused  pre- 
amble asked  whether  I  could  show  him  the 
spot  where  Becket  died.  I  do  not  think  he 
mentioned  Becket's  name,  but  he  wanted  to 
see  "  the  place  where  they  beat  him  down 
on  his  knees  and  dashed  his  brains  out  on 
the  stones";  and  he  shifted  his  bundle  as 
he  spoke,  and  punctuated  his  phrase  with 
a  sweep  of  the  arm  that  showed  his  im- 
agination had  been  touched  indeed.  It 
might  have  been  interesting  to  inquire 
whether  he  thought  Becket  a  traitor  or  a 
martyr,  whether  sympathy  or  hatred  had 
prompted  his  quest.  But  though  one  may 
walk  in  the  nave  while  service  goes  on  in 
the  choir,  good  manners  and  the  verger 
object  to  conversation,  and  my  artisan  re- 
mains as  mysterious  to  me  as  the 
prelate  probably  does  to  him. 


great 


English 


Few 
pleasant    ideas 


cathedrals   will    give    you 

of  Protestant  hospitality. 
The  restrictions  that  will  meet  you  are 
many,  and  savor  more  of  commercial  than 
of  ecclesiastic  cause.     Almost  everywhere  you  must  write  your  name 

1  The  internal  length  of  Canterbury  dihedral  is  514  feet,  and  the  spread  of  the  transept  is  148  feet  6  inches. 
The  cloister  is  134  feet  square,  and  the  chapter-house  is  87  feet  long  by  35  feet  in  breadth  and  52  in  height. 


PLAN  OF  CANTERBURY 

CATHEDRAL.! 

FROM  Murray's  "handbook." 

A.  South  porch.  C.  Nave.  D.  Transept  of 
the  martyrdom.  E.  Dean's  (formerly  I-idy) 
Chapel.  I.  Choir.  LL.  Eastern  transept. 
M.  St.  Andrew's  Tower.  N.  St.  Ansclm's 
Tower.  ().  Trinity  Chapel.  Q-  The  corona. 
2.  The  spot  where  Becket  fell.  7.  Position 
of  Becket's  shrine  (destroyed).  8.  Monu- 
ment of  the  Black  Prince.  9.  Monument 
of  Henry  IV.  13.  Monument  of  Cardinal 
Pole.  24.  Monument  of  Archbishop  Ste- 
phen Langton. 


44 


English  Cafhcihals. 


in  a  big  hook  like  a  hotel  register  and  pay  a  sixpence  before  you  can 
enter  the  choir.  But  nowhere  except  in  Westminster  Abbey  will  your 
subsequent  steps  be  so  hampered  as  at  Canterbury.  Nowhere  else 
does  the  verger  shepherd  his  tourist  flock  so  sternly,  or  so  quickly  turn 
it  out  into  the  nave  again  when  his  poor,  parrot-like,  peregrinating  reci- 


S^3»W« 


THE  C.MHKUUAL,   FROM     IHK   SOU  1  HWEST,  AT   SUNSET. 


tative  is  finished.  Some  sort  of  a  safe-conduct,  preferably  a  written 
permit  from  the  dean,  is  es.sential  if  )ou  would  see  Canterbur\'s  choir 
with  pleasure  or  profit. 

The  first  thing  that  strikes  even  a  slightly  practised  eye  is  the  un- 
likeness  of  the  choir  to  the  usual  English  type  either  of  its  own  date 
or  of  any  other.  The  second  transept,  lying  far  to  the  eastward  of  the 
first,  has  its  parallel  in  three  or  four  other  great  churches.  But  instead 
of  a  long  level  floor,  broken  only  by  a  few  steps  in  front  of  the  altar, 
here  is  a  floor  raised  higher  and  higher  by  broad  successive  flights, 
giving  an  unwonted  air  of  majesty  and  pomp.  The  lines  of  the  great 
arcades  and  of  the  aisle-walls  are  not  straight,  but,  beyond  the  second 


The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury.         45 


transept,  trend  sharply  inward;  an  almost  straight-sided  space  succeeds ; 
and  then  the  far-off  termination  is  neither  the  broad  semicircular  Nor- 
man apse  nor  the  flat  east  end  of  later  days.  The  walls  sweep  around 
as  though  to  form  a  simple  apse,  but  toward  the  centre  of  the  curve 
they  open  out  again  into  a  slender  lofty  chapel  almost  circular  in  plan. 
All  these  peculiarities  give  an  individual  accent  and  a  special  beauty  to 
the  choir;  and  all  have  a  curious 
historic  interest. 

The  Norman  choir  of  Anselm, 
Ernulph,  and  Conrad  so  nearly 
perished  in  the  great  fire  of  1 1 74 
that  almost  the  whole  of  the  in- 
terior now  shows  the  touch  of 
the  two  Williams.  But  the  lower 
portion  of  the  outer  walls  sur- 
vived, together  with  two  circular 
chapels,  named  for  St.  Anselm 
and  St.  Andrew,  which  had  pro- 
jected from  the  sides  of  the  apse. 
From  the  centre  of  the  old  apse- 
line  there  had  also  projected  to 
the  eastward  a  square  chapel  de- 
dicated to  the  Trinity,  and  this, 
says  Gervase,  was  the  place  as- 
signed for  the  new  shrine  of  St. 
Thomas,  "where  he  celebrated 
his  first  mass,  where  he  was 
wont  to  prostrate  himself  with 
tears  and  prayers,  under  whose  crypt  for  so  many  years  he  was  buried, 
where  God  for  his  merits  had  performed  so  many  miracles,  where  poor 
and  rich,  kings  and  princes,  had  worshipped  him,  and  whence  the  sound 
of  his  praises  had  gone  forth  into  all  lands."  A  mere  isolated  chapel 
could  no  longfer  serve  the  demands  of  his  fame — he  needed  a  dioni- 
fied  open  space  with  circumambient  aisles  to  receive  a  thousand  pil- 
grims at  once ;  and  yet  sentiment  required  some  witness  to  the  existence 
of  the  ancient  chapel.  So,  partly  to  preserve  the  old  walls  and  lateral 
chapels,  and  partly  to  retain  in  the  central  alley  of  St.  Thomas's  rest- 
ing-place the  dimensions  of  Trinity  Chapel,  that  inward  trend  of  col- 
umns and  walls  was  adopted  which  at  first  we  may  think  a  beautiful 
but  merely  wilful  device.      There  has  been  more  doubt  with  regard  to 


TWO   BAYS  OF  THE  CHOIR. 

SHOWING    THE    WORK    OF    WILLIAM    OF    SFNS. 


46  English  Cathedrals. 

the  exact  reason  for  the  roiiiul  tenninal  chapel.  The  architectural 
name  of  such  a  feature  is  a  "corona";  this  was  easily  translated  as 
"  Becket's  Crown,"  and  legend  interprets  the  translation  to  mean  that 
here  stood  a  separate  shrine  for  the  scalp  which  was  severed  from 
Becket's  head  by  De  Brut's  fierce  final  blow.  It  is  certain  that  some- 
where in  the  church  this  scalp  was  long  exhibited  in  a  jeweled  gokkn 
box,  but  actual  witness  to  the  association  of  relic  and  chapel  does  not 
exist,  and  a  better  explanation  is  given  by  Viollet-le-Duc,  who  believes 
that  the  cathedral  of  Sens  had  been  finished  in  precisely  the  same  way, 
although  its  corona  was  afterward  destroyed  by  fire. 

It  is  impossible  to  separate  by  a  clear  line  the  handiwork  of  the  two 
Williams  in  the  choir  of  Canterbury,  but  from  end  to  end  it  is  so  con- 
sistent, and  so  distinctly  French,  that  we  must  believe  that  the  first  one 
designed  as  well  as  planned  it  all;  and  in  design  it  so  closely  resembles 
the  cathedral  in  his  own  town  of  Sens  that  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  the 
same  Ijrain  conceived  them  both.'  It  lias  the  very  greatest  value  in  the 
student's  eyes,  for  it  marks  the  introduction  of  the  Gothic  style  into  Eng- 
land, and  it  also  serves  as  a  standartl  by  which  he  may  measure  the  dif- 
ference between  the  Gothic  ideals  of  England  and  I'^-ance.  Of  course 
it  is  not  as  serviceable  in  this  respect  as  the  later  churches  of  France 
itself  where  the  Gothic  scheme  is  fully  developed;  yet  it  shows  us  a 
true  French  Gothic  effect,  and  explains  the  factors  which  compose  it. 
Although  the  new  ideal  is  not  yet  matured,  elaborated,  and  refined  to 
its  complete  expression,  it  has  found  clear  expression  ;  and  we  realize 
that  it  cannot  be  identified  witli  the  mere  adoption  of  the  pointed  arch, 
the  entire  suppression  of  the  round  one.  If  such  a  scheme  as  we  see, 
for  instance,  in  the  cut  on  p.  8  were  to  be  carried  out  with  pointed 
arches  only,  it  would  still  be  Norman  in  feeling  and  air.  But  here 
the  feeling,  the  character,  is  quite  different,  although  the  semicircular 
shape  is  retained  in  some  of  the  arches.  This  radical  change  in 
effect  is  partly  due,  of  course,  to  the  change  in  most  of  the  arch-forms 
and  in  the  decorative  features,  but  it  is  largely  also  a  matter  of  pro- 
|)ortions;  it  means  a  new  scale  of  relationship  between  the  height  and 
diameter  of  all  constructional  features.  But  this  itself  means  some- 
thing .still  more  fundamental  —  that  change  in  the  constructional  ideal 
of  which  I  spoke  in  the  previous  chapter.  The  new  desire  has  been  to 
build  not  solid  walls  pierced  by  openings,  but  a  framework  of  supports 
which  shall  sustain  both  walls  and  roof.  This  desire  is  still  very  mod- 
estly conceived,  yet  we  can  read  it  in  the  slenderness  of  the  piers  (which, 

1  The  cathedral  of  Sens  was  finished  in  1168,  seven  years  before  the  choir  of  Canterbury  was  begun. 


The  Cathedral  of  Chris fs  ChitrcJi,  Canterbury.         47 


z 

H 
XT. 

w 
c 
< 

> 
a; 
a 

> 

r 


J5 

o 


o 
c 


48  EiiglisJi  Cathedrals. 

indeed,  are  columns  rather  than  piers),  in  the  treatment  of  the  minor 
shafts  which  bear  the  ribs  of  the  vaulting,  in  the  larger  size  of  the  win- 
dows, in  the  generally  increased  accentuation  of  vertical  lines,  and  the 
general  suggestion  of  a  grouping  of  parts. 

We  shall  see  how  the  typically  French  character  of  the  work  is 
shown  by  the  vaulting-shafts  when  we  come  to  speak  of  true  Early  Eng- 
lish Gothic.  But  another  un-English  point — and  one  which  influences 
much  more  strongly  than  might  be  thought  the  whole  effect  of  the 
interior — is  found  in  the  character  of  the  capitals.  In  truly  English 
work,  as  soon  as  a  capital  loses  its  Norman  form  and  feeling  it  assumes 
an  elongated  cup-like  shape,  is  topped  by  a  round  abacus,  and  is  orna- 
mented either  with  a  succession  of  mere  mouldings  or  with  a  peculiar 
blunt  and  knotted  kind  of  foliage.  These  Canterbury  capitals  are 
quite  different  from  Norman  types,  but  equally  different  from  Early 
English  types.  They  are  low  and  broad,  the  abacus  is  rectangular, 
and  the  rich,  varied,  and  delicate  ornamentation  shows  forms  which  are 
palpably  classic  in  their  origin,  and  often  distinctly  Corinthiane.sque. ' 
In  short,  these  are  early  French  capitals  in  the  full  sense  of  the  term. 
We  seldom  see  their  like  in  England,  and  never  so  profusely  and  con- 
sistently used  as  here.  As  his  execution  of  French  William's  design 
progressed,  English  William  altered  his  constructional  as  well  as  his 
decorative  details  a  little,  but  throughout  the  upper  church  he  adhered 
to  the  French  capital  and  its  square  abacus.  In  truth,  the  whole  choir 
of  Canterbury  is  a  work  which  we  must  contrast  with  English  build- 
ings, which  we  can  compare  only  with  Gallic  ones.  The  contrast  will 
be  more  clearly  pointed  in  later  chapters. 

The  comparison  shows  that,  after  all,  William  of  Sens  was  some- 
what influenced  by  the  soil  and  the  site  on  which  he  built.  There 
are  some  round  arches  at  Sens  also,  but  their  different  disposition 
at  Canterbury  seems  to  show  a  desire  to  harmonize  the  new  work 
with  the  remaining  portions  of  the  Norman  walls.  Four  occur  in 
the  pier-arcade  (two  on  either  side)  just  where  Recket's  shrine  once 
stood ;  and  though  the  lights  of  the  triforium-arcade  are  pointed, 
they  are  grouped  in  pairs  beneath  comprising  semicircles.  The 
clearstory,  however,  shows  only  the  pointed  arch,  and  the  use  of 
both  forms  in  the  vaulting  is  not  a  local  peculiarity.  The  great 
length   of  the   choir  is  of  course   an   English  feature;    but  the  com- 

1  The  initial  which  begins  this  chapter  shows  a      the  transept  of  York  Cathedral  which  is  reproduced 
capital  from  the  choir  of  Canterbury,  and  it  may  be       at  the  head  of  Chapter  XII. 
compared  with  the  true  Early  English  capital  from 


The  Cathcdml  of  Christ  s  Church,  Caiitcybitry.         49 

parative  lowness  of  the  eastern  part,  while  it  strikes  us  at  first  in 
the  same  way,  is  the  outcome  less  of  any  great  divergence  from  con- 
temporary French  proportions  than  of  the  gradual  elevation  of  the 
floor.  English,  again,  is  the  use  of  dark  marble  for  the  minor  shafts, 
contrasting  sharply,  now  that  all  the  old  paint  has  vanished,  with  the 
pale-yellowish  stone. 

On  the  other  hand,  not  only  the  capitals  but  also  the  piers  which 
bear  them  are  French,  being  sometimes  composed,  as  at  Sens,  of  a 
pair  of  great  twin  shafts  ;  French  once  more  are  the  arches,  modeled 
in  two  orders  with  square  sections,  and  likewise  the  bands  encircling 
the  vaulting-shafts  as  well  as  these  shafts  themselves.  But  the  in- 
creased importance  assumed  by  these  bands  in  the  corona,  where 
English  William  deserved  his  name  a  little  better  than  in  the  retro- 
choir,  predicts  that  they  were  afterward  more  conspicuously  used  in 
insular  than  in   Gallic  work. 

Like  the  nave,  the  choir  now  owes  its  beauty  almost  altogether  to 
the  architect.  A  few  of  the  tall  windows  still  keep  their  gorgeous  fig- 
ured glass,  and  the  array  of  tombs  —  once  as  long  and  varied  as  that  in 
theWestminster  of  to-day,  and  infinitely  more  artistic — is  still  suggested 
by  a  noble  if  fragmentary  sequence.  We  may  still  see  the  sepulchre  of 
Henry  IV.,  and  those  of  Cardinal  Pole  and  other  famous  primates;  and, 
touching  the  chords  of  sentiment  more  strongly,  the  one  where  the  rust- 
ing armor  of  the  Black  Prince  hangs  above  his  recumbent  figure. 
Nevertheless  it  is  difficult  to  conceive  what  must  once  have  been  the 
crowded  picturesqueness,  the  eloquent  story-telling  of  this  choir.  Nor 
does  the  tramping  verger  with  his  apathetic  band  of  Philistines  very 
well  represent  that  enormous  throng  which  once  ascended  the  stairways 
on  its  knees,  pausing  by  the  various  chapels  to  pay  homage  to  the  arm 
of  St.  George,  to  a  piece  of  the  clay  from  which  Adam  was  moulded,  to  the 
bloody  handkerchief  of  Becket,  and  to  four  hundred  other  relics  of  equal 
cost  and  authenticity.  It  is  hard  to  picture  this  throng  kneeling  at  last 
around  the  lofty  shrine  of  St.  Thomas,  in  awed  awaiting  of  the  moment 
when  its  wooden  cover  should  be  raised  and  all  its  blaze  of  gold  and 
jewels  shown — scintillating  in  the  midst  that  priceless  gem,  the  Regale 
of  France,  which  had  leaped  from  the  ring  of  Louis  YII.  to  fix  itself  in 
the  shrine  when  he  refused  to  donate  it.  The  solemnity  and  dazzle  and 
incomparable  pomp  of  such  a  show  are  as  impossible  to  conceive  as  the 
mental  mood  of  philosophers  and  princes  who  could  thus  revere  a  saint 
like  Becket  while  ignoring  the  one  great  service  that  he  really  rendered 
to  his  race. 


50 


English  Cafhciirnls. 


VI 


There  are  only  fragments  of  Norman  work  above  the  ground  in  this 
cathedral,  there  is  not  a  bit  of  genuine  I^arly  P-nglish  work,  and  the  Dec- 
orated period  has  left  no  trace  in  its  actual  construction,  although  the 
screen  which  surrounds  the  singers' 
choir  is  an  exquisite  example  of  thir-  i 

teenth-century  art.     When   we  pass 

ill 


:i,i         t- 


¥ 


=:^^M?t^ 


THE  SOUTH   SIDE  OF   THE  CATHEDRAL. 


from  the  choir  out  into  the  nave  again,  we  go  at  one  step  from  French 
twelfth-century  work  to  Perpendicular  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The 
change  is  great  indeed.  There  we  had  strong  simple  piers  supporting 
the  vaulting-shafts  but  not  combined  with  them;  square  capitals,  con- 
spicuous and  elaborate;  a  high  and  open  triforium-arcade;  and  a  clear- 
story with  three  tall  arches  in  each  compartment.  Here  the  pier-arches 
are  much  loftier,  and  so,  of  course,  are  the  aisles  Ijeyond  them  ;  the 
pillars  art;  like  vast  ijundles  of  ri-i;ds,  and   their  capitals  are  so  small 


The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury.         51 

that  they  pass  almost  insensibly  into  the  ribs  of  the  vaulting ;  and  the 
triforium  has  lost  its  old  individuality  —  it  is  merely  the  continuation 
over  a  solid  background  of  the  traceries  of  the  clearstory  windows, 
each  of  which  fills  a  whole  compartment  of  the  upper  wall.  But,  as 
Monk  Gervase  asks,  "  who  could  write  all  the  turnings  and  windings 
and  appendages  of  such  and  so  great  a  church  as  this?"  So  much 
work  of  the  wonderfully  prolific  Perpendicular  period  will  meet  us  else- 
where that  at  Canterbury  we  may  quickly  pass  it  by.  In  a  late  ver- 
sion of  this  same  style  is  the  Lady- chapel,  now  called  the  Dean's, 
lying  eastward  of  the  Transept  of  the   Martyrdom. 

No  crypt  in  the  world,  I  imagine,  is  larger  than  Canterbury's,  or  so 


~-<^ 


THE  EAST  END  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL. 


rich  in  historic  associations.  It  begins,  as  crypts  in  England  always 
do,  just  eastward  of  the  crossing,  leaving  the  four  great  piers  that  sup- 
port the  tower  to  be  assisted  by  the  solid  earth ;  and  thence  it  extends 
under  the  whole  of  the  long  east  limb,  following  the  same  outlines  with 
transept  and  chapels  of  its  own.  All  the  part  which  underlies  the  choir 
proper  and  the  transept  was  built  in  the  Norman  style  by  Ernulph, 
Anselm's  first  architect,  who  doubtless  worked  into  his  fabric  the  remains 
of  the  earlier  Norman  crypt.  Romanesque  architecture  shows,  of  course, 
at  its  heaviest  and  sternest  in  such  subterranean  constructions,  which 


52 


Riiglisli  Ca/fici/ra/s. 


could  have  no  ^rcat  hcii^ht,  which  asked  tor  httlc  ornamenting  ot  their 
dark  expanse,  and  whicii  horc  the  weight  of  the  upper  church  on  tlieir 
shoulders.  But  there  is  a  truly  cyclopean  inipressiveness  about  Er- 
nulph's  crypt,  with  its  perspectives  of  low  semicircular  arches,  massive 
stumpy  columns  and  plain  cubical  capitals;  it  has  a  further  architectural 


THE  CENTRAL   ("BELL   HARRY")  TOWER,  FROM   THE  "DARK    ENTRY"  IN   THE  CLOSE 


interest  as  preserving  the  exact  extent  and  shape  of  the  choir  which 
he  and  Conrad  built  above  it;  and  through  it  we  look  eastward  into 
a  labyrinthine  columned  space,  much  airier  and  lighter,  growing  higher 
and  higher  with  the  gradual  rise  of  the  floor  of  the  retrochoir  above, 
and  showing  shari)ly  pointed  arches  and  slender  shafts,  some  of  which 


The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury.         53 


prove  that  a  rich  scheme  of  decoration  was  begun  though  never  carried 
out.  This  portion,  in  the  early  Gothic  style,  underlies  the  retrochoir 
and  chapels  built  by  William  the  Englishman  ;  and,  whether  he  de- 
signed it  himself  or  not,  it  is  much  more  English  in  execution  than 
the  structure  above  it,  the  national  round  abacus  being  used  on  all  the 
capitals.  With  its  high  ceiling  and  its  many  windows  open  to  light 
and  air,  this  part  of  the  crypt  hardly  deserves  its  name,  typically 
illustrated  by  the  Norman  part — dark,  low,  heavy,  and  sepulchral.  It 
is  more  properly  an  undercroft  or  lower  church.  But,  whatever  we  may 
call  it,  admiration  is 
instant;  the  rising 
levels  of  Canterbury's 
floor  are  as  fortunate 
in  effect  below  as 
above  the  ground. 

The  Norman  crypt 
was  dedicated  to  the 
Virgin,  and  her  chapel 
still  remains  within  it, 
now  inclosed  by  a  rich 
late  Gothic  screen. 
Not  far  off,  in  the 
south  transept-arm,  is 
the  chantry  endowed 
by  the  Black  Prince 
on  his  wedding-day. 
And  just  where  the 
Norman  work  meets 
English  William's,  under  the  former  site  of  Trinity  Chapel,  we  see,  as 
Gervase  tells  us,  the  spot  where  Becket  was  first  interred.  Here  lay 
King  Henry  during  his  abject  night  of  penance,  here  he  bared  his  body 
to  the  monkish  lash,  and  hither  came  the  early  pilgrims  until,  in  the 
year  1 220,  the  body  was  translated  to  its  new  tomb  overhead.  Stephen 
Langton  was  then  at  home  again  from  exile,  and  he  worked  with  the 
young  son  of  his  adversary  John  to  organize  a  spectacle  of  unrivaled 
pomp  and  uncalculating  hospitality.  Princes  bore  the  pall,  bishops 
followed  by  scores,  and  the  Archbishop  of  Rheims  said  mass  at  a  tem- 
porary altar  set  up  in  the  nave,  where  the  vast  concourse  could  be 
accommodated  best.  So  magnificent  a  pageant  had  never  been  seen 
before  even  in  that  age  of  shows,  and  it  saddled  the  dioce.se  with  a 

4* 


*«!*- 


v"**' 


xrjK^  ^  .g^ ' 


NORMAN   STAIRWAY    IN   THE  CLO.SE. 


54 


Eiii^//s/i  Caflicih'als. 


■TTr-^r^'^'A 


THK  CATHEDRAL.  FROM   THE  "GREEN   COURT"   IN   THE  CLOSE. 

debt  that  could   not  wholly  be  discharged  till   the  time  of  Langton's 
fourth  successor. 

But  passing  years  brought  very  different  figures  into  this  crypt.  In 
the  sixteenth  century  Queen  Elizabeth  gave  the  whole  of  it  for  the  use 
of  a  colony  of  French  and  Flemish  Huguenots;  the  wide  central  spaces 
were  filled  with  their  silk-looms,  and  the  south  aisle,  around  the  Black 
Prince's  chantry,  was  screened  off  for  their  church.  It  is  interesting, 
but  not  surprising,  to  find  the  descendants  of  these  old-lime  refugees 
still  worshiping  in  the  same  place;  for,  when  untempted  by  the  desire 
for  liberty  or  ducats,  Englishmen  arc  phenomenally  constant  to  the  past. 


VII 


The  west  front  of  Canterbury  is  a  poor  English  imitation  of  the  fine 
French  type,  showing  little  evidence  of  well-thought-out  design.  The 
towers  do  not  harmonize  with  the  huge  Perpendicular  window  that  fills 
the  whole  space  between  them,  and  the  poverty  of  aspect  which  always 
results  when  doors  are  unduly  small  is  exceptionally  apparent.      Nat- 


The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury. 


55 


urally  the  east  end  is  more  French  in  expression,  but  the  very  low 
pitch  of  its  roof  gives  it  local  character;  and  almost  everything  else 
in  the  exterior  is  English:  the  two  transepts,  the  tremendous  length 
of  the  choir,  the  insignificance  of  the  buttresses,  the  size  of  the  cen- 
tral tower,  the  comparative  smallness  of  the  western  ones,  and  the  de- 
sign of  all  the  three  and  of  the  nave  as  well. 

But  it  is  only  when  we  follow  along  the  whole  south  side  (noting 
on  our  way  that  rich  Norman  work  in  the  eastward  transept  and  St. 
Anselm's  chapel  which  explains  the  style  of  the  burned  interior), 
when  we   round  the   tower-like   eastern  end   and   find   the  wonderful 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  THE  NORTH 


picturesqueness  of  the  northern  aspect, — 
it  is  only  then  that  we  realize  how  truly 
English  Canterbury  is. 

To  the  south  the  cathedral  close  was  nar- 
rowed by  the  impact  of  the   city's  streets, 

and  so  the  dependent  structures  could  not  be  placed  in  this,  their 
customary  place.  But  on  the  north  the  domain  of  the  monastery 
extended  to  the  far-off  city-wall,  and  here  Lanfranc  and  many  later 
archbishops  and  priors  made  a  great  and  splendid  sequence  of  green 
quadrangles  and  conventual  buildings.  Henry  VHI.  suppressed  the 
convent,  deposed  the  prior,  scattered  the  hundred  and  fift\-  monks,  and 
replaced  them  with  the  dean  and  dozen  canons  whose  successors  still 
bear  rule.  The  buildings  were  somewhat  damaged  at  that  time, 
were  left  for  years  to  neglect,  and  then  were  beaten  into  pieces  by 
Puritanical  hands. 

Now  it  needs  careful  study  to  trace  what  they  all  must  have  been  — 
the  two  immense  dormitories ;   the  great  infirmary  with  its  nave  and 


56  Eiig/is/i  CatliCiimls. 

aisles  and  its  chapel  to  complete  the  resemblance  to  an  imposing 
church ;  the  vast  guest-houses,  here  for  noble,  there  for  more  plebeian, 
and  there  again  for  wandering  pauper  pilgrims;  the  tall  water-tower, 
the  library,  the  treasury,  the  refectory,  the  stables,  granaries,  bake- 
houses, breweries,  and  all  the  minor  architectural  belongings  of  so 
numerous  a  brotherhood  devoted  to  such  comfortable  living  and  such 
lavish  hospitality.  To-day,  the  great  square  of  the  cloister  still  stands 
contiguous  to  the  church  itself,  chiefly  as  rebuilt  in  the  Perpendicular 
period,  but  the  same  in  plan  and  in  occasional  stones  as  when  Becket 
passed  along  it  to  his  death.  The  adjoining  chapter-house  is  also  pre- 
served, a  large  rectangular  room,  partly  in  the  Decorated  and  partly 
in  the  Perpendicular  style;  a  beautiful  room,  but  much  less  individual  in 
its  interest  than  the  polygonal  ones  we  shall  find  elsewhere.  Near  by, 
again,  are  the  old  water-tower  and  a  maze  of  connecting  passages  and 
rooms.  Then  at  a  distance  from  all  of  these,  far  off  to  the  north- 
ward, are  a  couple  of  Norman  gateways,  and  a  charming  external 
staircase,  the  only  one  in  all  England  which  remains  as  built  by  Nor- 
man hands  ;  and  scattered  everywhere  are  fragments  large  and  small 
of  many  kinds  and  dates,  sometimes  rebuilt  to  serve  an  alien  purpose, 
sometimes  ruins  merely. 

But  ruin  in  an  English  spot  like  this  does  not  mean  desolation  or  the 
loss  of  loveliness.  It  means  a  consummate  pictorial  beauty  which,  to  all 
eyes  except  the  serious  student's,  w^ell  replaces  architectural  perfection. 
These  casual-seeming  columns,  these  isolated  tall  arcades,  these  un- 
glazed  lonely  windows  and  enigmatical  lines  of  wall,  all  alike  are  ivy- 
covered  and  flower-beset,  embowered  in  masses  of  foliage  and  based  on 
broad  floors  of  an  emerald  turf  such  as  England  alone  can  grow.  And 
above  and  beyond  rises  the  pale-gray  bulk  of  the  cathedral  crowned  by 
its  graceful  yet  stupendous  tower,  telling  that  all  is  not  dead  which 
once  was  so  alive,  speaking  of  the  England  of  our  day  as  reconciled 
again  to  the  England  of  St.  Thomas.  If  within  the  church,  we  pro- 
test against  Protestant  guardianship,  without  we  are  entirely  content. 
Ruined  or  rebuilt  though  they  are,  the  surroundings  of  Canterbury 
seem  much  more  living,  as  well  as  much  more  lovely,  than  the  undis- 
turbed accompaniments  of  many  a  Continental  church  where  a  lingering 
Catholicism  has  kept  the  mediaeval  charm  of  the  interior;  for  nature 
is  always  young,  and  the  Englishman  knows  how  to  make  good  use  of 
her  materials.  Even  the  modernized  dwellings  in  which  dean  and 
canons  live  —  partly  formed  of  very  ancient  fragments,  partly  dating 
from  intermediate  times — have  a  pleasant,  homely,  livable  look  which 


The  Cathedral  of  Christ's  Church,  Canterbury.         57 

one  rarely  finds  abroad.  And  if  there  is  tennis  on  the  old  monks' 
turf,  or  a  tea-party  under  the  ancient  elms,  we  are  glad  as  of  an- 
other item  delighting  the  eye,  and  another  link  binding  actual  life 
to  the  life  of  long  ago. 

But,  architecturally  speaking,  the  best  proof  of  the  English  aspect  of 
the  cathedral  itself  is  gained  from  some  spot  a  little  further  off.  Here 
we  fully  understand  its  incredible  length  and  the  triumphant  dominance 
of  the  great  "Bell  Harry"  tower.  Nowhere  out  of  England  can  we 
see  a  Gothic  central  tower  in  such  supremacy,  or  any  tower  of  just 
this  shape — four-square  in  outline  through  all  its  two  hundred  and 
forty-five  feet,  finished  with  a  parapet  and  tall  angle-pinnacles,  and 
never  intended  to  support  a  spire.  Such  a  tower,  accompanied  by 
lower  brethren  to  the  westward,  overtopping  so  long  and  low  a  church 
set  amidst  such  great  conventual  structures  and  above  such  masses 
of  verdure,  apart  and  distinct  enough  from  the  dwellings  of  laymen  for 
dignity  but  not  for  isolation  of  effect  —  this  we  can  see  in  England 
only,  and  nowhere  in  England  in  greater  perfection  than  here. 


VIII 

A  HUNDRED  other  points  of  peculiar  interest  might  be  noted  in  Can- 
terbury Cathedral,  and  a  hundred  other  facts  of  curious  historic  flavor 
might  be  quoted  from  its  chronicles.  I  am  especially  tempted  to  dwell 
upon  the  proofs  of  Becket's  phenomenal  renown  —  to  tell  how  for  cen- 
turies no  royal  Englishman  omitted  homage,  and  how  royal  strangers 
also  came  to  pay  it,  kings  and  princes  many  times,  more  than  once  an 
emperor  of  the  West,  and  once  at  least  an  emperor  of  the  East ;  to 
recite  how  Henry  V.  journeyed  hither  fresh  from  Agincourt,  how  Ed- 
ward I.  hung  by  the  shrine  the  golden  crown  of  Scotland  and  was 
married  in  the  Transept  of  the  Martyrdom,  and  how  Charles  V.  of  Ger- 
many, going  nowhere  else  on  English  soil,  yet  came  here  with  Henry 
VIII.,  each  in  the  springtime  of  his  youth  and  pride,  to  pay  the  king- 
defier  reverence  just  before  the  day  of  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 
And  as  a  set-off  to  such  tributes  I  should  like  to  describe  the  visit  of 
the  skeptical  but  philosophic  Erasmus  and  the  equally  skeptical  but 
far  franker  Colet ;  and  the  final  spoiling  of  the  shrine  ordered  in  his 
later  years  by  the  same  Henry  who  had  made  the  pilgrimage  with 
Charles,  when  two  great  coffers,  needing  each  some  eight  strong  men 
to  bear  it,  could  hardly  hold  the  gold  and  gems,  while  the  lesser 
valuables  filled  a  train  of  six-and-twenty  wagons.     Then  is  there  not 


liiiglish  C(i  tin  'i  in  i  Is. 


that  long  list  of  archbishops  whose  beginning  was  with  St.  Augustine 
himself  and  whose  end  is  not  even  yet  ?  Were  not  its  representatives 
for  many  ages  not  only  first  in  the  ruling  of  the  Church  but  scarcely 
second  to  the  king  in  the  ruling  of  the  State — treasurers,  chancellors, 
vice-regents,  guardians  of  princely  children,  or  leaders  of  the  people, 

or  cardinals  of  Rome,  or  teach- 
ers or  martyrs  of  the  new  anti- 
Roman   faith  ? 

I  may  explain,  however,  that 
in  later  mediaeval  and  still  more 
in  modern  times  the  archbishops 
of  Canterbury  have  often  had 
little  to  do  with  Canterbury  it- 
self At  the  beginning  the  tie 
between  the  archbishop  and  his 
titular  church  and  town  was  close 
indeed.  He  was  not  only  primate 
of  England,  but  bishop  of  the 
Kentish  land  and  prior  of  Christ's 
Church  convent  too;  and  his  life 
was  intimately  intertwined  with 
local  happenings.  But  as  his 
power  grew  and  his  duties  ex- 
panded, he  was  forced  to  think 
ever  more  and  more  of  England, 
ever  less  and  less  of  Canterbury. 
The  office  of  prior  was  conferred 
on  another,  and  even  diocesan  matters  were  practically  in  humbler 
hands.  Lambeth  Palace  in  London  became  the  primate's  chief  resi- 
dence, and  when  not  there  he  was  much  more  apt  to  be  in  some  splen- 
did country  home  than  in  his  Canterbury  dwelling.  This  separation 
between  the  spiritual  and  the  civic  centres  of  the  realm  was  often  declared 
useless  and  even  harmful;  a  demand  for  greater  centralization  was  often 
heard  even  before  London's  supremacy  was  achieved,  while  Winchester 
was  still  the  royal  town  ;  and  to  London  the  seat  of  the  primacy  would 
certainly  have  been  transferred  had  not  a  single  occurrence  fixed  Can- 
terbury in  its  rank.  This  occurrence  was  the  murder  of  Becket,  bring- 
ing about  his  canonization  and  wonder-working  and  the  sudden  rise  of 
Canterbury  from  a  humble  provincial  town  to  a  place  of  world-wide  fame 
and  peculiar  sanctity.     When  Henry  VIIL  made  his  new  ecclesiastical 


THE  CENTRAL   TOWER,   FROM    THE 
NORTHEAST. 


The  Cathedyal  of  Christ's  Chuvch,  Canterbury.         59 

arrangements  Canterbury's  title  was  too  well  established  to  be  taken 
away.  Since  the  Puritans  destroyed  the  old  buildings  there  has,  indeed, 
been  no  archiepiscopal  palace  at  Canterbury;  but  this  is  an  unimportant 
detail.  As  the  Kentish  capital  was  from  the  first,  so  it  remains — the 
city  of  the  mother-church  ;  and  so  it  very  surely  will  remain  as  long  as 
there  is  an  England  and  a  Christian  faith.  Had  all  other  monuments 
of  Becket  perished  as  utterly  as  the  Reformers  meant  they  should,  this 
greatest  monument,  carved  from  the  very  constitution  of  the  English 
State,  would  still  bear  him  its  conspicuous  witness. 


SUi?  1 


LAMBETH    PALACE.  LONDON.       RESmENCE  OF  THE   ARCHBISHOPS   OF  CANTERBURY. 


CnAi'Tiik    III 

THE  CATHEDRAL   OF    ST.    IMiTKR,    ST.    PAUL,  AND    ST.   ANDREW, 

PETERBOROUGH 


HK  claims  of  history  took  us  first  to  Canterbury 
Cathedral,  and  if  we  followed  their  leading 
a^^ain  we  should  go  next  to  Winchester.  But 
as  our  main  purpose  is  to  understand  the  de- 
velopment of  English  architecture,  it  will  be 
best,  now  that  we  have  glanced  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  ecclesiastical  story,  to  follow  the 
artistic  story  by  consecutive  steps.  Therefore 
I  must  speak  now  of  some  church  where  Norman  work  has  been 
largely  preserved  amid  the  alterations  of  later  days ;  and  although 
the  cathedral  of  the  West-Saxon  capital,  like  that  of  the  Kentish  cap- 
ital, was  once  altogether  Norman,  Winchester  has  been  as  thoroughly 
transformed  as  Canterbury,  and  to-day  its  principal  portions  are  in  the 
Perpendicular  style.  The  Norman  style  is  represented  best  at  Peter- 
borough and  Durham.  Durham  Cathedral  is  the  more  splendid  struc- 
ture of  the  two,  but  it  is  also  the  more  individual.  It  stands  only  for 
itself  and  a  few  smaller  churches,  while  Peterborough  is  a  typical 
example  of  Anglo-Norman  work.' 


In  the  eastern  part  of  England  the  Normans  l)uilt  three  great  sister- 
churches,  similar  in  dimensions  and  design.  All  three  are  now  cathe- 
dral churches  —  Norwich  near  the  coast,  Ely  in  the  centre  of  the 
fen -lands,  and  Peterborough  on  their  western  skirts.    But  Peterborough 


1  Thomas  Craddock's  "  General,  .\rchitectural,  and 
Monastic  History  of  Peterborough  Cathedral"  gives 
a  more  trustworthy  analysis  of  this  church,  I  think, 
than    Murray's    "Handbook,"    which   is   based   on 


Paley's  "  Remarks  on  the  Architecture  of  Peter- 
borough Cathedral  " ;  and  as  it  is  published  at 
Peterborough,  it  may  easily  be  procured  by  the 
tourist. 


Peterborough  Cathedral.  6i 

was  not  a  cathedral  till  long  after  it  had  assumed  its  present  aspect. 
For  centuries  it  stood  apart  from  the  main  currents  of  national  life  ; 
its  influence,  though  great,  was  distinctly  local ;  and  its  annals  were 
marked  by  few  famous  names  or  conspicuous  happenings.  Through 
many  centuries  it  was  built  and  rebuilt  and  enlarged  as  a  mere  abbey- 
church,  a  private  place  of  worship  for  a  house  of  Benedictine  monks. 
Yet  architecturally  it  bears  comparison  with  the  greatest  of  cathedrals, 
and  therefore  it  has  peculiar  interest  as  proving  the  enormous  extent 
and  long  duration  of  monastic  wealth  and  pride  and  power. 

The  abbey,  then  called  Medeshamstede,  was  founded  by  Peada,  the 
first  Christian  king  of  Mercia,  less  than  sixty  years  after  the  land- 
ing of  St.  Augustine.  Its  church  was  finished  by  his  successor,  and 
dedicated  to  St.  Peter.  The  pope  granted  the  brotherhood  extraordi- 
nary privileges,  the  king  endowed  it  with  some  four  hundred  square 
miles  of  land,  and  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  years  it  lived  and  pros- 
pered greatly.  Then  its  buildings  were  utterly  swept  away  by  Danish 
rovers,  and  the  eighty-four  brothers  were  slaughtered  to  a  man.  A 
full  century  passed  before,  in  972,  the  monastery  was  refounded,  re- 
endowed,  and  rechristened  Peter's-borough.  Edgar  was  then  king 
and  Dunstan  primate,  and  the  Benedictines  whom  they  so  greatly  fa- 
vored were  naturally  placed  in  the  new  establishment. 

This  second  church  was  also  troubled  by  the  Danes.  But  the  most 
interesting  chapter  in  its  history  tells  of  those  later  days  when  Danes 
and  Englishmen  joined  in  a  last  resistance  to  the  Norman  interloper, 
and  when  Hereward  ruled  the  "Camp  of  Refuge"  in  the  neighboring 
Isle  of  Ely.  Hereward's  story,  made  so  familiar  by  the  touch  of  mod- 
ern romance-writers,  rests  only  on  long  subsequent  and  dubious  tradi- 
tions. Yet  their  survival  in  such  richness  of  detail  proves  at  least  that 
he  must  have  been  a  valiant  leader  and  one  whom  the  popular  heart 
held  very  dear ;  and  our  own  mood  grows  so  sympathetic  when  we 
read  that  we  hardly  care  to  ask  for  history's  exact  decisions.  We  like 
to  believe  in  Hereward's  midnight  vigil  at  Peterborough's  altar;  and 
we  are  probably  right  in  believing  that  a  little  later  he  came  with  his 
band  of  outlaws,  —  monks,  peasants,  and  soldiers,  Englishmen  and 
Danes, — and  despoiled  that  altar  and  the  whole  church  of  St.  Peter, 
carrying  off  its  treasures  to  prevent  their  falling  into  the  grasp  of 
the  advancing  Norman.  The  local  monks  were  inclined  to  favor 
Englishmen,  not  Normans;  yet  so  high-handed  an  act  could  not 
fail  to  seem  sacrilegious  in  their  eyes,  and  they  resisted  it  as  best 
they  might.      Hereward   burned   their  homes   and  drove   them   forth, 


62 


English  Cathedrals. 


hut,  it   seems,  without   needless   cruelty;   for  when  William's  fighting 

abbot  came  in  iiis  turn,  he  found  the  hospital  still  standing  over  the 

head  of  a  single  invalitl  t)ld  brother. 

This  Norman  abbot,  Thorold,  chastiseti  Peterborough  as  vigorously 

as  William  had  expected.  He  ruled  for  twenty-eight  years,  "a  mas- 
ter of  the  goods  of  the  ab- 
bey and  a  scandal  to  the 
Church."  And,  "being  a  sol- 
dier by  choice  and  a  monk 
for  convenience  and  emolu- 
ment," and  knowing  himself 
well  hated  within  his  own 
walls,  he  brought  in  a  troop 
of  men-at-arms  and  built 
them  a  castle  close  by  the 
church's  side.  When  this 
castle  w^as  destroyed  is  not 
exactly  known;  but  its  site 
is  traced  in  a  mound,  called 
the  Tout-hill,  which  rises, 
overshadowed  by  great 
trees,  to  the  southward  of 
the  cathedral  and  to  the 
eastward  of  the  bishop's  — 
once  the  abbot's  —  palace. 

In  1 107  Ernulph,  whom 
we  have  known  as  prior  at 
Canterbury,  was  promoted 
to  be  abbot  at  Peterborough. 
Later  he  was  made  bishop 
of  Rochester,  and  in  all  times 
and  places  was  a  mighty  and 
persistent  builder.  But  here 
he  speaks  only  through  tra- 
dition :    the    dormitory,    the 

refectory,  and  the  chapter-house  he  built  have  utterly  disappeared. 
The  second  Old  English  church  stood  unchanged  by  Norman  hands 

until  1 1 16,  when,  like  its  predecessor,  it  was  wholly  swept  away  by  fire. 

1  Peterborough  Cathedral  is  480  feet  long  outside  the  walls,  and  426  feet  inside ;   its  transept  measures 
203  feet  outside  and  185  feet  inside  ;  and  the  breadth  of  its  facade  is  153  feet. 


%Y 


PLAN   OF   PETERBOROUGH  CATHEDRAL.» 
FROM  Murray's  "handbook." 


A   A.   Portico.      B.  H.  Western  tmnscpi.     C   Nave 

E.  Ch»iir.     F.   Rctrochnir,  or  "  New  Building."     lo.  Place  of 


D.  r>.  Transept. 
10.  Place 
Mary  Stuart's  tomb.     ii.  Tomb  of  Catherine  of  Aragon. 


Peterborough  Cathedral.  63 

In  1 1 1  7  the  present  structure  was  begun.  John  of  Sais  was  abbot,  but 
whom  he  had  for  architect  we  do  not  know;  nor  are  the  later  chronicles 
of  Peterborough  anywhere  illumined  by  those  citations  of  an  artist's 
name  which  give  to  Canterbury's  such  a  vivid  charm. 

Under  John  of  Sais  the  choir  was  built  in  part,  and  it  seems  to  have 
been  finished  under  Martin  of  Bee;  for  he  brought  his  monks  into  the 
new  structure  "with  much  pomp"  in  1 143,  and  a  consecration  implies 
that  the  choir  at  least  is  complete.  The  central  tower  was  erected 
soon  after  1155;  and  this  in  its  turn  implies  that  the  transept  and  a 
portion  of  the  nave  must  have  been  standing  to  support  it.  There- 
after the  work  seems  to  have  gone  on  slowly  westward.  Slight  differ- 
ences in  construction  and  design  mark  its  successive  stages.  Though 
the  same  general  scheme  persists  till  we  come  almost  to  the  western 
wall,  it  is  easy  to  see  that  more  than  once  the  original  plan  was 
altered  for  the  increase  of  size  and  splendor.  The  nave  had  already 
been  given  two  bays  more  than  was  at  first  intended  when  a  second 
ambitious  impulse  added  still  another  space,  which,  as  it  has  a  lateral 
projection  beyond  the  main  line  of  the  aisle-walls,  is  called  a  western 
transept.  In  this  the  pure  simple  Norman  style  is  no  longer  used,  but 
a  later  lighter,  richer  version  of  round-arched  design, — that  "Transi- 
tional" style  which  served  to  prepare  the  way  for  Gothic.  And  when 
we  cross  the  threshold  and  look  at  the  outside  of  the  western  wall, 
we  see  still  another  step  in  development.  I  do  not  yet  mean  when 
we  look  at  the  huge  arched  portico,  but  at  the  veritable  wall  of  the 
church  behind  it  as  seen  through  the  portico  arches  on  page  65. 
This  wall  shows  the  pure  Early  English  style,  though  its  inner  face 
is  built  almost  entirely  with  round  arches.  Evidently  the  great 
change  of  style  had  come  about  while  it  was  being  raised ;  and 
its  constructors,  true  to  the  mediaeval  spirit,  had  abandoned  the  old 
manner  as  quickly  as  they  could.  For  the  unity  of  their  work  as  a 
whole  they  did  not  care  —  only  for  the  harmony  of  such  portions  as 
a   single   glance   might   cover. 

Their  idea  was  evidently  to  build  some  such  fagade  as  we  shall  see 
at  Wells  and  Salisbury,  with  tall  towers  on  either  hand  and  projecting 
buttresses  in  front.  But  before  the  task  was  accomplished  a  new  hand 
once  more  took  control.  Again  the  design  was  changed,  and  again  for 
the  sake  of  gfreater  trrandeur.  One  of  the  towers  was  finished  no  fur- 
ther  than  necessity  compelled  for  the  safety  of  the  front;  the  other, 
though  now  conspicuous  with  four  corner  pinnacles,  is  still  much  lower 
than  it  should  have  been ;  and  the  buttresses  remained  unbuilt  while 


64  English  Catlicdyals. 

a  second  entire  faqade  was  thrown  out — the  great  portico  with  its  three 
majestic  arches,  its  small  flanking  towers,  and  its  pointed  gables. 


II 

TiiK  contrast  is  very  striking  as  we  pass  through  this  portico  and 
the  elaborate  late  Norman  western  transept  into  the  earlier  Norman 
nave.  It  is  very  striking,  and  very  impressive  in  its  proof  that  what  we 
vaguely  call  mediaeval  art  was  in  truth  a  succession  of  many  arts  widely 
unlike  each  other  in  proportions,  features,  and  details,  aiming  at  very 
different  constructional  and  decorative  ideals,  and  inspiring  very  differ- 
ent emotions  in  the  modern  mind. 

In  this  nave  we  find  neither  the  grace,  the  lightness,  nor  the  aspiring 
lines  which  show  themselves  outside,  no  elaboration  of  minor  parts,  and 
very  little  sculptured  ornament.  The  plainly  fluted  capitals  and  the 
boldly  treated  mouldings  give  scarcely  a  faint  prediction  of  tliat  "cut 
work  and  crinkle-crankle"  which  to  John  Evelyn  in  the  seventeenth 
century  summed  up  the  characteristics  of  mediaeval  work.  This  Nor- 
man work  is  strong  to  massiveness,  plain  almost  to  baldness.  It  is 
Titans'  work,  immense,  austere,  and  awful.  To  the  men  of  Evelyn's 
day,  and  also  to  the  www  of  late  mediaeval  days,  it  doubtless  seemed 
barbaric.  But  it  is  not  barbaric,  and  it  is  not  even  primitive,  archaic, 
though  so  sternly  simple  and  severe.  It  is  too  grand  in  its  air  for  bar- 
baric work,  which  is  never  more  than  grandiose  ;  it  is  too  dignified,  and 
too  refined  in  its  feeling  for  proportions  and  relationships  despite  its  lack 
of  delicate  detail  ;  and  it  has  that  air  of  entire  success,  of  the  perfect 
realization  of  an  aim,  which  always  marks  a  complete  and  never  a  ten- 
tative stage  in  architectural  development.  It  does  not  seem  tentative 
when  compared  with  Gothic  work,  any  more  than  Egyptian  temples  do 
when  compared  with  those  of  Greece.  It  proves  that  its  builders  knew 
precisely  what  they  wanted  to  accomplish,  and  were  able  to  accompli.sh 
it  with  precision.  \Vc  may  call  the  design  primitive,  remembering  the 
more  audaciously  and  subtilely  constructed  work  that  later  centuries 
produced  ;  but  it  is  really  the  final,  perfected  effort  of  a  style  which 
had  i)een  developed  by  generations  of  able  architects.  It  exactly  and 
completely  expresses  the  aims  and  ideals  of  the  Norman  race  at  the 
apogee  of  its  power. 

I  confess  that  we  cannot  help  thinking  the  nave  much  too  narrow 
for  its  length.  Only  79  feet  wide,  and  extending,  with  its  eleven  huge 
bays,  for  226  feet,  we  may  feel  that  it  looks  more  like  an  avenue  of 


Peterborough  Cathedral. 


65 


entrance  than  a  cathedral  nave,  more  like  the  approach  to  some  huge 
sanctuary  than  an  integral  part  of  the  sanctuary  itself.  But  this 
merely  proves  that  our  taste  differs  from  Norman  taste.  It  does  not 
imply  any  such  lack 
of  architectural  com- 
petence as  would  be 
implied  did  we  find 
a  want  of  balance 
and  harmony  in  the 
arrangement  or  pro- 
portioning of  the  va- 
rious features  which 
compose  the  design. 
The  Anglo-Norman 
chose  a  ground-plan 
which  to  us  seems  I 
less  nobly  impressive  I 
than  that  of  other  \ 
mediaeval  builders ; 
but  we  can  find  no 
fault  with  the  way  in  ' 
which  he  constructed 
his  building  upon  the 
lines  thus  prescribed. 
We  feel  that  his  de- 
sien  miijfhthave  been 
more  beautiful  had  it 
been  more  richly  dec- 
orated by  the  chisel, 
but  we  remember 
how  much  it  was  once 
enhanced  by  paint; 
and  as  a  design,  even 
now  in  its  nakedness, 
it  is  admirably  com- 
plete— excepting  only  as  regards  the  roof  of  its  central  space.  The 
aisles  are  vaulted  with  stone,  but  the  broader  main  alley  is  covered 
with  a  board  ceiling  which  once  lay  quite  flat,  although  in  later  days,  to 
make  room  for  the  pointed  arch  which  now  helps  to  sustain  the  central 

1  See  also  the  drawing  of  two  bays  of  the  choir,  on  page  8. 


-^^^^^ 


TWO   BAYS   OF  THE  NAVE.' 


66  English  Cathcdmls. 

tower,  its  middle  portion  was  raised  a  little  and  the  side  portions  were 
slanted.  Its  painted  decoration  still  survives  from  an  early  though 
uncertain  day  —  small  figure-designs  enframed  in  lozenge-like  patterns 
of  black.  When  the  walls  w-ere  painted  too  it  looked  better,  of  course, 
than  it  does  to-day,  contrasted  with  the  stony  whiteness  of  everything 
below.  But  even  then  it  must  have  seemed  a  pauper  finish  to  such 
strength  of  arch  and  pier  and  wall.  Only  a  huge  and  massive  barrel- 
vault  with  mighty  semicircular  ribs  could  properly  have  carried  out 
the  ideal  achieved  in  the  great  series  of  semicircular  features  beneath 
it.  Yet  we  must  believe  that  its  builders  found  this  ceiling  satisfac- 
tory, or  knew,  at  least,  that  they  could  not  compass  anything  better; 
for  there  is  no  preparation  for  a  possible  future  vault.  The  starting- 
point  for  the  ribs  of  a  vault  must  lie  much  lower  than  the  cornice  of 
the  clearstory  wall  ;  but  here  the  great  supporting  shafts,  which  rise 
from  the  floor  between  bay  and  bay,  run  straight  up  to  this  cornice: 
they  are  not  anticipatory  vaulting-shafts,  but  must  have  been  built 
simply  to  bear  the   rafters  of  the  wooden  ceiling. 

Turn  back  now  into  the  western  transept,  and  we  shall  Le  still  more 
thoroughly  convinced  that,  e.xcept  as  regards  their  ceiling,  the  builders 
of  the  nave  had  perfectly  expressed  the  Norman  ideal.  Here  the  con- 
structional features  are  almost  altogether  the  same,  but  their  propor- 
tions are  all  changed.  The  result  is  light,  graceful,  rich,  and  aspiring, 
as  compared  with  the  solidity,  simplicity,  solemnity,  and  reposefulness 
of  the  nave.  Yet  we  do  not  feel  that  the  new  qualities  have  been  per- 
fectly achieved.  We  feel  that  a  struggle  is  going  on  between  the  new 
ideal  and  the  old  constructional  means.  From  our  far  point  of  his- 
torical vantage,  we  can  clearly  see  that  the  time  for  new  constructional 
means  was  near,  that  the  advent  of  Pointed  architecture  was  at  hand. 
And  so  this  Transitional  work  may  in  one  sense  be  considered  more 
primitive  than  the  pure  Norman  which  antedates  it,  for  it  is  tentative 
work ;  it  seems  to  be  groping  toward  a  development  which  later  gen- 
erations were  to  carry  to  perfection. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  such  late  Norman  or  Transitional  work  in 
England,  but  there  is  comparatively  little  work  that  resembles  it 
in  France.  There  early  Gothic  followed  immediately  upon  perfected 
Romanesque.  There  the  pointed  arch  was  used  constructively  before 
it  was  introduced  as  an  ornamental  or  subordinate  feature,  as  it  is  intro- 
duced on  the  western  wall  of  the  Transitional  transept  at  Peterborough. 
There  novel  constructional  desires  preceded,  predicted,  and  inspired 
the  broad  new  ideal  which  was  to  realize  itself  in  Gothic  architecture, 


Peterborough  Cathedral.  67 

while  in  England  this  ideal  seems  to  have  stirred  men's  minds  before 
they  had  felt  structurally  cramped  by  the  limitations  of  the  round  arch. 
In  France  the  desire  to  build  great  vaults  well  was  the  beginning  of  the 
new  development;  the  pointed  forms  thus  imposed  on  the  builder  quickly 
spread  to  all  parts  of  his  construction,  and  his  ideal  transformed  itself 
by  a  natural,  logical  process.  But  we  know  how  little,  in  comparison, 
twelfth-century  builders  in  England  thought  of  their  vaults.  When 
their  style  altered,  it  seems  to  have  been  rather  by  reason  of  a  change 
in  taste  than  of  a  development  in  constructional  desires.  So  it  seems 
fair  to  assume  that  their  taste  had  been  influenced  by  a  knowledge  of 
what  was  being  done  across  the  Channel.  We  feel  like  saying  that 
they  turned  to  Pointed  architecture,  not  that  they  evolved  it. 

And  a  comparison  of  dates  will  support  such  a  conclusion.  The  choir 
of  Canterbury  was  begun  in  1 1  75  and  finished  in  1 184  ;  I  have  told  how 
nearly  pure  Gothic  it  is,  and  there  are  earlier  structures  in  France  which 
are  purer  still.  The  nave  of  Peterborough  w-as  begun  in  1 1 77  and  was 
not  finished  till  near  the  end  of  the  century  ;  but  if  we  compare  it  with 
the  adjacent  choir  (which  was  built  between  11 17  and  1143),  we  see 
exactly  the  same  constructional  scheme,  and  only  a  few  changes  in 
decorative  detail.  The  mouldings  and  ornaments  of  the  pier-arcade 
are  different,  but  are  still  thoroughly  Norman  ;  the  only  hint  of  the 
coming  revolution  speaks  from  the  pointed  hood-mouldings  above  the 
semicircular  clearstory  arches. 

An  exact  date  for  the  western  transept  cannot  be  given,  but  it  must 
have  been  built  about  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century ;  its 
w-estern  wall  was  of  course  the  latest,  and  it  is  only  on  this  wall  that 
the  Transitional  character  of  the  whole  is  emphasized  by  the  use  of  a 
few  pointed  features. 

Ill 

As  is  frequent  in  England,  the  transept  at  Peterborough  has  an  aisle 
only  along  its  eastern  face.  The  semicircular  apse  with  which  the  cen- 
tral alley  of  the  choir  was  finished  still  remains  ;  but  its  main  apertures 
have  been  altered  to  a  pointed  shape  and,  like  the  round-arched  win- 
dows above,  have  been  filled  with  rich  Decorated  traceries ;  and  through 
them  we  look  into  a  great  and  elaborate  eastern  space.  This  was  added 
during  the  Perpendicular  period,  between  1438  and,  probably,  about  15 10. 

Very  boldly  and  beautifully  certain  nameless  architects  then  went  to 
work  to  meet  the  need  for  more  altar-accommodation  in  the  already 
gigantic  church.     The  aisles  of  the  choir  seem  to  have  been  stopped 


68 


English   CntJicdmh. 


flat  by  their  Norman  builders  parallel  with  the  beginning  of  the  curve 
of  the  apse,  but  in  Early  English  days  square  chapels  had  been  thrown 
out  from  their  ends.  Now  chapels  and  aisle-ends  were  all  torn  down 
to  give  free  sight  and  passage  into  a  single  great  undivided  one-storied 
apartment  which  was  built  across  the  whole  width  of  the  church  and  as 
high  as  the  aisle-roofs,  and  which,  after  the  lapse  of  four  centuries,  is 
still  called  the  New  Building.      Hut  the  central  apse  was  preserved,  the 


WESTERN   TOWERS   OF   THE  CATHEUKAL,    EkuM    THE   CLUISI  Ek. 


massive  sweep  of  its  upper  stories  rising  high  above  the  roof  of  the 
New  Building,  while  the  lower  story  projected  into  it,  and  the  great 
pier-arches,  with  their  fringe  of  Decorated  tracery,  allowed  the  eye  to 
pass  from  the  old  work  to  the  new.  Stand  within  the  New  Building 
now,  and  you  will  be  interested  to  see  that  its  architects  were  so  sure  of 
the  fundamental  success  of  their  bold  scheme  that  they  did  not  care  to 
obliterate  all  signs  of  the  piecing  they  had  done.  The  projecting  Norman 
wall  was  flanked  by  slender  Perpendicular  pillars,  was  partly  remodeled 
in  detail,  and  was  overlaid  with  Perpendicular  ornament.      But  a  Nor- 


Peterborougli  Cathedral.  69 

man  string-course  was  allowed  to  remain;  also  many  traces  which  the 
weather  had  made  on  the  wall  while  it  was  still  an  external  wall,  and 
even  one  or  two  of  the  iron  fastenings  which  had  held  the  shutters 
when  its  arches  were  still  windows. 

In  construction  and  details,  as  well  as  in  the  daring  good  sense  of  its 
conception,  the  New  Building  is  a  very  fine  example  of  Perpendicular 
art,  while  its  rich  fan-vaulting^  seems  particularly  clever  in  contrast  to 
the  work  of  those  early  builders  who  scarcely  ventured  upon  vaults  at 
all.  But  we  are  not  yet  on  the  true  birthplace  of  the  Perpendicular 
style  and  once  more  may  pass  it  briefly  over. 

The  ceiling  of  the  choir  is  an  elaborate  vault,  also  of  Perpendicular 
design,  but  it  is  not  built  of  stone.  Singular,  indeed,  seems  the  per- 
sistence of  that  ancient  instinct  which,  in  the  lavish  and  ambitious  fif- 
teenth century,  could  impel  an  architect  thus  to  imitate  with  wooden 
ribs  and  panels  the  forms  he  was  eminently  able  to  construct  in  stone. 
Once  the  deception  is  discovered,  we  almost  feel  that  the  flat  boards  of 
the  Norman  were  a  dignified  device :  at  least  they  did  not  profess  to  be 
what  they  were  not.  And  very  far  superior  to  a  simulated  vault  seem 
those  open  wooden  roofs,  with  their  splendid  series  of  sculptured  beams 
and  ties  and  traceries,  which,  at  this  same  time,  the  English  architect 
was  using  in  his  secular  structures  and  smaller  temples. 

The  fact  that  all  the  apertures  in  the  apse  had  been  filled  with  tra- 
ceries during  the  Decorated  period,  long  before  the  New  Building  was 
thought  of,  is  only  a  type  of  the  constant  retouching  that  went  on  for 
centuries  throughout  the  church.  Art  grew  too  vitally  and  vigorously 
in  those  centuries  for  any  one  to  be  quite  content  with  what  his  ances- 
tors had  bequeathed,  and  if  nothing  important  could  be  built  or  rebuilt 
there  was  always  something  which  might  be  manipulated  into  harmony 
with  current  tastes.  At  one  time  or  another  almost  every  window  in 
Peterborough  was  altered  in  shape  or  filled  with  traceries,  so  that 
now  we  may  see  Early  English,  Decorated  and  Perpendicular  lights 
everywhere  contrasting  curiously  with  each  other  and  with  the  old 
Norman  walls. 

IV 

Come  now  outside  St.  Peter's,'-  and  let  us  look  at  that  western  portico 
which  is  the  most  famous  feature  in  any  of  England's  famous  churches. 

1  For  the  character  of  fan-vaulting  see  the  illustra-  sccrated  with  holy  oil,  thougli  built  of  old,"  should 

tion  of  the  cloister  at  Gloucester  in  Chapter  XI.  receive  consecration  within  the  space  of  two  years. 

-  In  the  year  1237  the  Council  of  London  issued  Accordingly    Peterborough    was    dedicated   in    the 

a  decree  that  all  churches  "  not   having  been  con-  name  of  St.   Peter,  St.   Paul,  and  St.  .Andrew,  and 

5* 


Ene/is/i  Cat/icdra/s. 


't> 


There  is  nothing  like  it  in  iMiohmd  or  elsewhere,  and  there  are  few 
parts  of  a  church  in  any  land  which  so  surprise  and  dazzle  us  and 
seem  at  the  first  glance  so  supcrnaturally  effective  and  imposing.  Is  it 
really  as  beautiful  as  it  is  striking?  Is  it  as  good  in  an  architectural 
sense  as  it  is  amazing  and  delightful  to  the  eye  that  loves  grandeur 
and  picturesqueness  ? 

A  little  examination  will  show  that  its  builder  committed  many  sins 
in  working  his  ambitious  purpose. 

To  begin  with,  this  "  majeslick  front  of  columelwork"  does  not 
strengthen  the  main  fabric  of  the  church  as  buttresses  would  have 
done;  there  is  no  structural  connection  between  them.  Of  course,  the 
vaulted  ceiling  of  the  portico  rests  on  the  west  wall  of  the  nave;  but 
the  tall  clustered  piers,  if  unassisted,  could  not  even  bear  the  weight  of 
this  ceiling  and  of  the  three  huge  arches.  Arches  and  pillars  so  vast 
as  these  seem,  indeed,  well  able  to  sustain  their  own  weight  and  a 
great  deal  more,  even  though  they  rise  eighty  feet  from  the  ground. 
They  look  like  mammoth  branching  trees,  and  appear  to  stand  as  a  tree 
does,  by  natural  cohesion  and  elasticity.  But  their  stones  are  as  subject 
to  the  laws  of  gravity  and  pressure  as  though  differently  arranged.  An 
arch  will  not  break  in  at  the  ape.x  as  a  lintel  breaks  down  in  the  centre; 
but  it  will  burst  outwartl,  it  will  give  way  at  the  haunches,  unless  prop- 
erly reinforced.  Every  one  knows  that  the  vaults  of  a  tall  Gothic  nave 
would  burst  out  the  clearstory  walls  but  for  the  inward  thrust  of  the 
arches  that  are  called  flying-buttresses.  But  just  as  surely  would  these 
flying-buttresses  fall  were  they  not  held  at  one  end  by  the  buttresses 
of  the  aisle-walls,  and  at  the  other  by  the  outward  pressure  of  the  nave- 
vaults.  No  one  part  sustains  the  other — all  are  kept  in  equilibrium 
by  the  opposite  pressure  of  other  parts.  The  Arab  rightly  says  that 
"an  arch  never  sleeps,"  and  the  bigger  it  is  the  more  sturdily  it  must 
be  built  and  abutted  if  its  perpetual  pressure  is  not  to  tear  it  in  pieces. 
These  piers  and  arches  at  Peterborough  could  not  have  stood  at  all 
without  the  help  of  the  flanking  towers.  Even  with  that  help  they  were 
unable  to  stand.  Only  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  after  they  were  built 
they  had  to  be  strengthened  by  a  porch,  or  parvise,  built  within  the  cen- 
tral arch  up  to  half  its  height.  This  is  a  charming  feature  in  itself,  and 
was  very  scientifically  used,  but,  of  course,  it  injures  the  effect  of  the 
portico  ;  and  despite  its  introduction,  and  the  fact  that  all  parts  of 
the  fabric  have   at  other   times  been   braced  and   tied   together  with 

the  figures  of  its  patrons  stand  in  niches,  one  in  of  the  saint  who  occupies  the  central  gable,  and  for 
each  of  the  gables  of  the  portico.  Hut  we  can  whom  the  abbey  and  town  had  been  called  centuries 
hardly  help  calling  the  church  simply  by  the  name      before. 


Peterborough  CatJiedral. 


71 


H 

n 
50 
ol 
O 
TO 
O 

O 

o 
> 

a 

§ 
•a 
> 

1 

H 

S 

w 
PI 


?3 

o 

H 
> 
0 


o 


If 
> 


/- 


English  Cathcch'cils. 


iron  bars,  the  arches  and  piers  are  now  conspicuously  awry.  Indeed, 
more  tlian  once  it  has  been  said  that  they  should  all  be  taken  down 
and  reconstructed. 

But  had  it  been  solidity  itself,  this  portico  would  still  have  been  an 
irrational  piece  of  work.  It  lacks  not  only  structural  connection  with 
the  church,  i)ut  structural  affinity  with  its  design.  It  deliberately  mis- 
represents the  forms  which  lie  behind  it,  and  to  which  it  pretends  to  be 
an  introduction.  Its  three  arches  profess,  of  course,  to  represent  the 
three  longitudinal  divisions  of  the  nave,  and  they  lead  us  to  think  that 
the  aisles  lie  some  si.\ty-five  feet  apart  instead  of  only  forty-si.x.  This 
implies,  of  course,  that  the  arches  are  not,  like  those  of  Rheims  or 
Amiens,  a  true  development  and  glorification  of  the  doors  which  stand 
within  them.  They  are  as  independent  in  station  as  in  structure,  and 
have  ab.sorbed  all  the  dignity  they  should  have  shared  with  the  portals 
proper.  In  fact,  this  front  is  not  a  true  front  or  even  a  true  portico;  it 
is  merely  a  screen,  and  a  .screen  which  bears  false  witness  to  the  w'ork 
that  lies  behind  it.  Moreover,  if  we  consider  it  simply  in  itself  we  see 
that  the  general  design  has  been  sacrificed  to  the  magnificence  of  the 
arches — the  gables  are  too  small  and  delicate  to  match  w-ith  them,  and 
the  flanking  towers  too  insignificant.  In  trutli,  no  doors,  no  gables, 
and  no  towers  could  have  been  built  to  keep  such  arches  fitting  com- 
pany. Given  piers  and  arches  of  this  size,  it  was  inevitable  that  the 
rest  of  the  composition  should  suffer,  and  that  the  church  behind 
should  be  misrepresented;  —  any  possible  accompanying  features  would 
seem  too  mean  for  their  vastness,  any  possible  interior  would  seem 
too  small  and  low  for  their  grandiose  predictions.  And  finally  we  can 
find  a  fault  even  in  the  arches  themselves.  Judged  either  intrinsically 
or  as  a  frontispiece  to  a  nave  with  narrower  aisles,  it  seems  unfortunate 
that  the  central  arch  should  be  the  narrowest  of  the  three.' 

These  facts  certainly  prove  that  the  portico  lacks  that  rational,  logical 
character  which  every  architectural  work  must  have  to  be  really  e.xcel- 
lent,  whether  we  appraise  it  from  a  constructional  or  from  a  purely  ees- 
thetic  point  of  view  ;  and  the  fact  that  no  other  qualities  can  quite  make 
up  for  a  lack  of  real  excellence  may  be  provcil  1j\-  the  test  of  thorough 
acquaintance.  This  front  could  never  seem  unimpressive,  no  matter  how 
long  we  might  dwell  face  to  face  with  it ;  but  once  we  have  measured 
the  source  of  its  magnificence,  understood  its  character  as  a  piece  of 
design,  it  never  again  makes  quite  the  same  impression  that  it  did  at 
first.      However  we  may  be  thrilled  by  the  colossal  charm  of  its  vast 

1  The  wheel-window  in  one  of  the  gables  of  the  portico  is  shown  in  the  initial  at  the  head  of  this  chapter. 


Peterboi'oitgh  Cathedral. 


/.J 


THE    CATHEDRAL,    FROM    THE    BISHOPS    GARDEN. 


tripled  curves,  and  by  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  around  its  lofty 
clustered  piers,  the  eye  protests  against  the  insignificance  of  its  other 
features,  and  the  mind  against  its  want  of  a  logical  reason  for  being. 
It  always  looks  very  splendid,  but  it  never  looks  even  approximately 
right;  and  if  the  observer  does  not  feel  distressed  by  this  conflict  be- 
tween pictorial  charm  and  structural  significance,  he  should  coniess, 
in  all  humility,  that  architecture  is  not  the  art  he  was  born  to  love. 
What  he  really  loves  are  such  things  as  appeal  to  the  pictorial  sense, 
to  the  poetic  sense,  to  the  imaginative  faculty,  and  to  the  emotional 
chord.  Architecture  appeals  to  all  of  these — but  to  something  else 
besides ;  and  only  when  a  work  of  architecture  satisfies  everything  to 
which  it  can  appeal  may  we  pronounce  it  absolutely  fine. 

Yet  I,  for  one,  am  very  glad  that  this  daring,  illogical  piece  of  work 
was  built.  It  is  worth  while,  now  and  then,  to  have  the  imagination 
powerfully  thrilled  even  though  the  reason  may  not  be  contented,  to 
have  the  eye  astonished  even  though  it  be  not  satisfied ;   it  is  worth 


74 


ILiiglisli  Catlicdnils. 


Id 
Q 


X 
H 
OS 
O 


I 

< 
X 

a 
u 

I 

H 
< 

U 

X 

o 

D 

O 
OS 

o 
oa 
oi 
Id 
H 
Id 
0, 


Peterborough  Cathedral.  75 

while  to  sit  in  front  of  Peterborough  and  dream  what  the  church  would 
have  been,  could  any  one  indeed  have  built  it  to  match  with  these  su- 
pernally  majestic  arches.  In  a  more  prosaic  mood  we  confess  that 
Gothic  art  would  never  have  reached  its  full  nobility,  power,  and  beauty 
did  this  portico  reveal  its  truest  temper ;  yet  we  are  interested  to  see 
how  splendid  a  thing  it  could  produce  even  when  ambition  so  far  o'er- 
leaped  itself.  And,  finally,  while  there  is  always  pleasure  in  looking  at 
a  splendid  thing  which  we  know  to  be  unique,  in  this  case  there  is 
great  instruction  too.  Peterborough's  portico  makes  us  realize  what 
temptations  lay  latent  in  the  materials  of  Gothic  art;  we  feel  that  where 
one  man  ventured  to  build  like  this  a  hundred  men  must  have  been  as- 
sailed by  ideas  as  illogically  grand.  So,  when  we  remember  that  there 
is  nothing  like  this  portico  in  character,  either  among  the  porticos  or 
among  the  other  features  of  Gothic  churches, — that  nothing  else  reveals 
so  great  a  talent  led  so  far  astray  from  the  paths  of  architectural  right- 
eousness,—  keen  indeed  grows  our  sense  of  the  general  self-restraint 
and  wisdom  of  mediaeval  builders. 

Strangely  enough,  not  only  is  the  name  of  the  architect  of  this  por- 
tico unknown,  but  even  that  of  the  abbot  who  employed  him.  Nothing 
dates  the  fabric  except  the  voice  of  its  Early  English  style,  which  indi- 
cates the  first  half  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Some  think  that  French 
genius  must  have  been  at  work  upon  it ;  and  certainly  it  bears  more 
likeness  to  current  French  than  to  current  English  conceptions.  But 
all  its  details  are  English  in  character,  and  they  are  less  richly  applied 
and  less  skilfully  worked  than  they  would  have  been  by  Gallic  hands ; 
and,  besides,  one  cannot  really  believe  that  any  thirteenth-century 
Frenchman,  even  far  away  from  home,  would  have  designed  in  so  illogi- 
cal, unscholastic  a  way.  The  portico  seems  to  me  rather  the  work  of 
some  exceptionally  brilliant  Englishman  who  had  seen  the  great  portals 
of  France  and  had  wished  to  surpass  them,  but,  led  on  by  an  imagina- 
tion that  was  more  poetic  than  architectural  in  quality,  ended  by  cre- 
ating something  wholly  new — something  superior  to  his  models  in 
bigness,  audacity,  and  pictorial  eftect,  but  far  inferior  in  good  sense, 
constructional  excellence,  decorative  finish,  and  true  architectural  beauty. 
He  must  have  been  a  great  artist ;  but  there  were  much  better  archi- 
tects, much  greater  artists,  then  alive  in  France. 


Outside,  the  east  end  of  Peterborough  is  very  picturesque,  with  the 
old  Norman  apse  raising  two  ponderous  round-arched  tiers  above  the 


76 


Efig/ish  Cafhcihah. 


light,  low,  square  mass  of  the  Perpendicular  New  Building,  crowned 
with  a  rich  parapet  and  statues.  As  thence  we  pass  along  the  north 
side  of  the  church,  through  the  beautifully  planted  churchyard  thickly 
sprinkled  with  old  stones,  we  find  a  succession  of  pictures  which  could 


THE   GATEWAY,    FROM   'IHK.    MAIN    DOOR 
OF   THE  CATHEDRAL. 


hardly  be  surpassed.  And  at  the  west  the  front  rises  superbly  above 
a  broad  green  lawn,  or,  if  we  stand  further  away  in  the  market-place 
of  the  town,  above  a  beautiful  gateway  built  by  the  Normans  but 
largely  altered  by  later  hands. 

But  it  is  only  such  near  views  as  these  which  are  really  fine  at  Peter- 
borough. The  town  lies  flat,  and  gives  only  a  flat  site  to  the  church  : 
and  the  church  itself  is  so  low,  its  central  tower  is  so  stunted,  and  its 
group  of  western  turrets  is  so  insignificant,  that  from  a  distance  it  does 
not  make  a  very  grand  effect. 

In  the  year  1885,  when  our  pictures  were  made,  there  was  no  cen- 
tral tower  at  all.     The  great  man  who  built  the  portico  was  not  the 


Peterborough  Cathedral. 


77 


only  Peterborough  architect  who  knew  more,  or  cared  more,  about 
effectiveness  than  about  stabihty.  The  Norman  tower  was  raised  on 
such   inadequate  supports  that  at  least  as  early  as  the  year   1300  it 


RECONSTRUCTING   THE   TOWER,   1885,  FROM    THE  CHOIR. 


cried  aloud  for  reconstruction.  So  it  was  taken  down,  and  its  substruc- 
ture was  strengthened.  The  large  arches  which  opened  from  nave 
and  choir  into  the  crossing  were  rebuilt  in  a  pointed  shape  ;  and  though 


78  English  Cathaimls. 

the  other  two,  opening  from  the  transept-arms,  were  left  intact,  pointed 
reheving-arches  were  built  solid  into  the  walls  above  them.  Then  a 
lower  tower  was  constructed,  finished  by  a  wooden  lantern  which  was 
removed  in  the  eighteenth  century. 

But  during  many  years  of  the  present  century  it  was  plain  that  the 
tower  had  again  grown  insecure.  Its  pillars  were  bent  and  bulging, 
and  the  arches  of  choir  and  transept  were  visibly  strained.  To  pre- 
vent such  a  catastrophe  as  befell  the  tower  of  Chichester  Cathedral 
in  1 86 1,  the  whole  work  was  again  pulled  down,  and  more  completely 
than  in  1300.  When  I  saw  the  church  in  the  summer  of  1885,  the 
four  great  angle-piers  with  their  connecting  arches  were  again  erect. 
They  had  been  rebuilt  from  a  lower  point  than  they  had  touched  be- 
fore,—  from  the  very  rock  beneath  the  treacherous  fen-land  soil, —  and 
the  old  stones,  carefully  kept  and  numbered,  had  been  replaced  with 
as  much  fidelity  as  perfect  firmness  would  permit. 

Shrinkage  of  the  soil,  consequent  upon  the  draining  of  the  adja- 
cent fens,  had  contributed  toward  that  dislocation  of  the  fabric  which 
ruined  the  tower,  and  which,  even  at  the  very  ends  of  choir  and  tran- 
sept, is  visible  to  the  most  careless  eye.  But  a  great  deal  of  the  blame 
must  also  be  laid  to  the  account  of  the  first  builders'  want  of  thought 
or  want  of  knowledge.  It  was  singular  to  hear  from  the  architect  in 
charge  of  the  repairs  how  superficial  had  been  the  foundations  of  so 
vast  a  work  as  the  tower.  And  it  was  surprising  to  see  how  poor  was 
the  actual  substance  of  the  apparently  titanic  piers  of  the  arcades. 
Portions  of  the  casing  of  the  choir-piers  had  been  removed  for  need- 
ful patching.  Under  so  vast  a  weight  of  wall,  would  "good  builders" 
have  constructed  piers  1 1  feet  in  diameter  with  a  skin  of  cut  and 
cemented  stone  only  9  inches  thick,  and  a  core  of  uncemented  frag- 
ments which  deserved  no  finer  name  tlian  rubbish?  One  could  well 
believe  the  architect  when  he  said  that  but  for  the  extraordinary  tough- 
ness of  the  white  Barnack  stone  the  whole  fabric  must  long  ago  have 
twisted,  torn,  and  wrenched  itself  asunder. 

And  such  a  poor  kind  of  construction  seemed  doubly  daring  when 
one  noted  the  proportions  of  the  old  tower-supports.  At  Norwich  the 
Norman  tower  still  stands;  but  the  great  angle-piers  beneath  it  are  10 
feet  in  diameter  and  only  45  feet  in  height,  while  the  arches  between 
them  have  a  span  of  only  23  feet.  Is  it  any  wonder  that  the  tower  of 
Peterborough  fell,  since  the  span  of  its  arches  was  35  feet,  and  the 
height  of  its  piers  was  52  feet  while  their  diameter  was  only  7  feet — 
4  feet  less  than  the  diameter  of  the  arcade-piers  in  the  choir? 


Peterborough  Cathedral. 


n 


THE  CATHEDRAL   IN    1885,   FROM   THE  SOUTH. 


VI 

It  would  be  hard  to  exaggerate  the  weakh  or  the  renown  of  this 
monastery  during  all  those  ages  when  it  was  called  the  "Golden 
Borough."  The  Pope  had  decreed  that  any  "islander"  who  might  be 
prevented  from  visiting  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  could  gain  the  same  in- 
dulgence by  visiting  St.  Peter's  here ;  and  so  great  in  consequence 
grew  the  sanctity  of  the  spot  that  all  pilgrims,  even  though  of  royal 
blood,  put  off  their  shoes  beneath  the  western  gateway  of  the  close. 
Many  precious  relics,  too,  the  monastery  owned  —  chief  among  them 
the  famous  "  incorruptible  arm  "  of  St.  Oswald,  the  Northumbrian  king. 

But  the  irreverence  of  Reforming  years  was  as  signal  as  had  been 
the  reverence  of  Catholic  generations.  Henry  left  the  church  intact, 
divided  its  revenues  with  the  new  cathedral  chapter  he  established,  and 
made  its  time-serving  abbot  the  first  bishop  of  the  see.  But  the  Crom- 
wellites  nearly  obliterated  the  monastic  buildings,  and  nearly  ruined 
the  church  itself  Its  splendid  glass  was  shattered,  its  great  silver- 
mounted  reredos  was  broken  into  fragments,  and  its  monuments  and 
carvings  were  mutilated  or  wiped  out.     The  vast  picture  of  Christ  and 


8o 


English  Cathedrals. 


the  apostles  on  the  ceiling  of  the  choir  was  used  for  target-practice, 
and  the  soldiers  did  their  daily  exercising  in  the  nave.  Even  the 
actual  fabric  of  the  church  was  attacked,  and  one  arch  of  the  portico 
was  pulled  down.  Later,  this  arch  was  rebuilt  with  the  old  stones,  and 
the  whole  church  was  repaired.      But  repair  meant  further  ruin  too. 


ivy.i 


..  Jlf—l      o 


^Ifj^^SjT^fe 


:••'. 


^i 


THE  CATHEDRAL,    FROM    THE   MARKET-PLACE. 


Materials  were  taken  from  the  domestic  buildings  to  patch  the  walls 
of  the  church,  and  a  beautiful  Early  English  Lady-chapel  which  pro- 
jected from  the  northern  transept-arm  was  destroyed  with  the  same 
end  in  view. 

Little  now  remains  within  St.  Peter's  to  give  it  an  interest  apart 
from  tliat  which  its  architecture  offers.  Yet  we  can  still  find  two 
tombs  which  vividly  bring  back  the  past.  Singularly  enough,  they  are 
the  tombs  of  two  discrowned  queens.  Mary  Stuart  was  beheaded  at 
Fotheringay,  eleven  miles  west  of  Peterborough,  and  was  buried  be- 
neath the  pavement  of  the  south  choir-aisle ;  and  as  we  stand  over 
her  empty  grave  she  seems  a  more  real  figure  than  in  the  crowded 
mausoleum  at  Westminster,  whither  her  son  removed  her  bones.  The 
other  tomb,  under  the  flagging  of  the  north  choir-aisle,  still  holds  its 
tenant,  Catherine  of  Aragon.  Thanks  to  the  Puritan,  nothing  does 
her  honor  except  a  simple  name  and  date  —  unless,  indeed,  we  may 
credit  the   tale  which  says  that  Henry  raised  St.  Peter's  to  cathedral 


Peterborough  Cathedral.  8t 

dignity  in  answer  to  her  dying  prayer  that  she  might  be  given  a 
monument  befitting  a  queen. 

The  monastic  buildings  once  covered  a  space  four  times  as  great  as 
that  occupied  by  the  church  itself.  But  sadly  few  are  the  fragments 
which  now  bear  witness  to  them.  A  splendid  Early  English  gateway 
gives  access  to  the  bishop's  palace  on  the  right  hand  of  the  western 
close  as  we  approach.  The  dwelling  itself  is  largely  modernized,  yet 
it  is  picturesque,  and  preserves  some  portions  of  the  old  abbots'  home. 
Opposite,  across  the  close,  built  into  the  modern  grammar-school,  is  a 
charming  apse — all  that  remains  of  the  Norman  chapel  of  St.  Thomas 
of  Canterbury.  South  of  the  church  the  cloisters  are  but  fragmen- 
tary, many-dated  ruins.  The  vast  arches  of  the  old  infirmary  stretch 
uselessly  across  a  narrow  path,  or  are  built,  very  usefully,  into  the 
walls  of  the  canons'  modern  houses ;  and  over  a  wide  distance  other 
relics  may  be  studied  with  some  interest  when  one  is  on  the  spot. 
Ruin  was  a  great  deal  more  complete  at  Peterborough  than  at  Canter- 
bury ;  and  though  Peterborough's  picture  of  united  old  and  new  is  very 
charming,  it  is  not  half  as  beautiful  as  the  one  that  the  mother-church 
of  England  offers. 

The  town  of  Peterborough,  offspring  and  creature  of  the  monastery, 
has  no  independent  civic  history  to  tell.  Nor  has  it  any  great  interest 
for  the  eye,  being  a  commonplace  little  provincial  centre  of  some  ten 
thousand  inhabitants.  On  market-days,  however,  its  streets  are  agree- 
ably full  of  life  and  bustle,  and  the  market-place,  opposite  the  cathe- 
dral, is  prettily  carpeted  by  a  hundred  white  and  blue  umbrellas. 

The  most  interesting  of  the  neighboring  villages  is  Castor,  which 
reveals  its  Roman  origin  by  its  name  as  well  as  by  the  relics  of  its 
camp.  Castor  is  not  cozy  and  green  and  shady  like  most  of  its  neigh- 
bors. But  on  top  of  its  low  bare  hill  stands  one  of  the  finest  small 
Norman  churches  in  England,  cruciform  in  plan  and  still  bearing  its 
central  tower.  This  tower  seemed  to  me  more  beautiful  in  design 
than  the  great  one  at  Norwich  ;  and  it  has  peculiar  interest  if  we 
are  right  in  believing  that  it  was  built  by  the  same  hands  which  con- 
structed the  neighboring  cathedral,  and  may  show  the  pattern  which 
the  cathedral's  own  tower  showed  in  its  earliest  days. 


82 


Euglisli  Cathedrals. 


]lLRIIAM    CATHEUkAI.,    1  K(jM    THE   SOUTHWEST. 


Chapter  IV 

THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  CUTHBERT DURHAM 

ROM  the  east  let  us  go  now  to  the  northeast  of 
England  where  we  shall  find  another  great 
Norman  cathedral,  but  one  differing  widely 
from  the  sister-churches  that  were  built  at 
Peterborough,    Ely,   and   Norwich. 

Durham  is  the  most  imposing  of  English 
cathedrals,  and  it  stands  on  the  finest  of  Eng- 
lish sites,  while  structure  and  site  atrree  and 
harmonize  so  well  that  nature  seems  to  have  built  a  great  work  of  her 
own  just  that  man's  work  might  complete  and  crown  it.  Here  we  have 
no  steep-pinnacled  hill  which  architecture  might  adorn  but  could  not 
really  improve.  We  have  a  broad  promontory  with  tree-clad  sides  and 
a  level  top,  where  a  great  building  of  some  sort  was  required  by  the 
eye,  and  where  the  largest  and  boldest  of  churches  would  seem  neither 
too  large  nor  too  bold.  Durham's  site,  in  fact,  is  a  lordly  pedestal 
upon  which  the  cathedral  sits  as  a  king  sits  upon  a  throne  made  splen- 
did to  enhance  the  royal  splendor.  No  English  site  except  Lincoln's  is 
so  grand  as  this ;  and  on  the  hill  of  Lincoln  natural  beauty  does  not 
aid  and  soften  grandeur  as  it  does  on  St.  Cuthbert's  promontory.' 


I  HAVE  spoken  of  that  early  Church  which  had  Christianized  a  great 
part  of  the  British  Islands  under  Roman  rule  but  had  been  driven  out 
of  the  southern  districts  during  early  Anglo-Saxon  years.      When  the 

1  The  best  guide  to  this  church  is  a  small  volume  one  of  the  most  learned  archaeologists  in  England, 
called  "Durham  Cathedral,"  which  contains  an  ad-  This  volume  can  be  obt.ained  in  the  book-shops  at 
dress  delivered  in  1879  before  a  local  society  of  ar-  Durham,  and  it  seems  to  have  formed  the  basis  of 
chitects  and  antiquaries  by  the  Reverend  William  the  treatise  included  in  Murray's  series  of  "Hand- 
Greenwell,  one  of  the  canons  of  the  cathedral  and      books." 

83 


84  Rnglisli  Catliedmls. 

good  seed  sent  from  Rome  began  to  bear  fruit  among  the  heathen 
English,  this  old  Church  sent  its  missionaries  also.  Ireland  had  been 
its  nursing  mother  for  two  centuries;  but  Irish  monks  were  constantly 
at  work  in  Scotland,  and  no  early  monastery  was  more  famous  than 
that  which  St.  Columba  established  in  the  sixth  century  upon  the  island 
of  lona  off  the  western  Scottish  coast. 

The  Northumbrian  land  seems  not  to  have  been  christianized  (.hiring 
the  British-Roman  period.  So  far  as  we  know,  the  gospel  was  first 
accepted  there  by  any  conspicuous  body  of  adherents  when  Paulinus, 
one  of  the  emissaries  of  Rome,  came  from  Kent,  early  in  the  seventh 
century,  with  Ethelbert's  daughter,  the  bride  of  King  Edwin  of  North- 
umbria.  And  even  this  evangelization  was  not  final.  In  633  Edwin 
was  slain  by  Penda  and  Cadwalla,  heathens  of  vigorous  arm  ;  Paulinus 
was  obliged  to  fly,  and  the  district  was  left  again  to  paganism.  But 
when  Oswald  conquered  in  his  turn,  he  brought  back  the  Christian 
faith  which  he  had  imbibed  in  Scotland,  and  sent  to  lona  for  priests  to 
help  him  teach  it  to  his  people.  One  of  these  priests  was  Aidan,  whom  he 
made  the  first  bishop  of  the  new  diocese  which  he  established  —  the  dio- 
cese which  is  now  of  Durham  but  was  then  called  of  Bernicia  and  had 
its  first  centre  at  Lindisfarne.  PVom  Scotland  too,  a  little  later,  came 
Cuthbert,  the  great  patron-saint  of  Durham.  A  shepherd  in  the  valley 
of  the  Lamler,  an  evangelist  who  preached  far  and  wide  in  a  savage 
and  desolate  country,  then  prior  of  the  Abbey  of  Melrose,  then  for  twelve 
years  a  simple  monk  at  Lindisfarne,  and  for  nine  years  a  hermit  in  a 
rude  cell  on  the  island  of  F"arne,  then  bishop  at  Hexham  and  at  last,  in 
685,  bishop  at  Lindisfarne,  Cuthbert  shared  with  Oswald  and  Aidan 
the  honor  of  the  final  conversion  of  the  northeastern  land;  and  thus 
we  see  that  it  owes  its  faith  of  to-day,  not  to  St.  Augustine's  mission, 
but  to  the  old  pre-English  Church. 

Cuthbert,  Oswald,  and  Aidan  were  all  canonized  by  Rome,  and  in 
their  case  at  least  the  halo  was  worthily  given;  for  Oswald  was  a 
truly  Christian  and  kingly  king,  and  Aidan  and  Cuthbert  were  saints 
of  a  true  saintly  type.  Aidan's  name  is  less  well  remembered  now, 
but  St.  Oswald  the  king  and  St.  Cuthbert  the  monk  are  still  alive  in 
men's  minds,  not  only  at  Durham  which  is  their  monument,  but  wher- 
ever the  outlines  of  Christian  history  are  read.  Oswald  was  slain  by 
Penda,  and  his  head  and  arms  were  exposed  on  stakes  on  the  battle- 
field. But  afterward  they  came  into  ecclesiastical  keeping ;  one  of 
the  "incorruptible"  arms  we  have  heard  about  at  Peterborough,  and 
the  head  was  buried  in  St.  Cuthbert's  coffin  at  Durham. 


The  Cafhedml  of  St.  Cuthbert — Durham. 


85 


THE    CATHEDRAL    AND    THE    CASTLE,    FROM    THE    NORTH. 


To  Northumbria,  as  well  as  to  the  fen -lands,  the  Danes  in  the  ninth 
century  brought  their  swords  and  torches.  The  monks  of  Lindisfarne 
fled  before  them,  carrying  the  holy  coffin.  For  eight  years  they  wan- 
dered, until,  in  883,  they  settled  at  an  old  Roman  station — Chester-le- 
Street — which  was  given  them  by  a  christianized  Danish  king.  Thence 
they  removed  again,  and  again  for  fear  of  the  rovers,  about  a  century 
later.  First  they  sat  at  Ripon  for  a  few  months,  and  then  they  turned 
back  northward,  doubtless  encouraged  to  think  once  more  of  Chester- 
le- Street.  But  when  they  reached  a  spot  a  little  to  the  eastward  of 
Durham,  St.  Cuthbert  caused  his  coffin  to  remain  immovable  for  three 
days,  and  finally  made  known  his  wish  to  be  sepultured  where  the 
cathedral   now  stands. 

The  first  church  here  was  built  of  wood  :    but  at  the  end  of  four 
years  it  had  already  been  replaced  by  one  of  stone,  and  this  stood  until 
after  the  Conquest,  while  some  of  its  materials,  perhaps,  still  survive  in 
the  Normans'  reconstruction. 
6* 


86 


English  Cathedrals. 


II 


There  were  times  and  places  when  the  first  thought  of  a  monastic 
colony  was  for  comfort  and  retirement,  for  fertile  surroundings  and  facil- 
ities of  access.  Hut  in  the  north  of  England  in  Danish  days  inacces- 
sibility, impregnability,  was  the  thing  to  be  desired;  and  St.  Cuthbert 


A. 


«  »iiiifii>i  %  I  f 


_                                                                                                                                                         CtNTBAL  "                                                                          -\ 

'-      L,                                                           HAVE.  CMOia                               > 

^imT^..n.-nn.,» ^  -«     >        *  I     '     *     '     «     '     ""M|, 

.     t  I    ♦  I                  ii     A  ^_.  a 


1  ll%HL^lUWi<»»<»*^ 


■   ^1- 


PLAN  OF  DURHAM  CATHEDRAL'   AND  MONASTIC  UUILDINGS. 

FROM  Murray's  *' hand-btiok  to  the  cathedrals  of  England.'* 

A.  High  altar.    C.  Site  of  St.  Culhbcrt's  shrine.     E.  Refectory.    F.  Dormitory.    K.  Prior's  (now  dean's)  house.    i6.  Bcde's  tomb. 

showed  wonderful  posthumous  wisdom  in  selecting  the  final  home  of 
his  perplexed,  itinerant  "congregation." 

There  is  a  large  town  now  where  there  was  then  a  wilderness;  a 
wide-spreading,  busy  town  overhung  by  that  gray  smoke-cloud  which 
is  the  invariable  sign  in  England  of  commercial  life;  a  town  so  modern 
in  mood  that  it  is  hard  to  think  of  it  as  only  an  alien  growth  from  an  old 

1  Durham  Cathedral  measures  420  feet  in  length  inside  the  walls,  and  172  feet  across  the  transept.     The 
Galilee-chapel  is  76  feet  6  inches  long  and  48  feet  wide. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Cuthbert — Durham.  87 

monastic  root.  It  lies  chiefly  to  the  eastward  of  the  church,  stretching 
out  far  to  north  and  south,  and  divided  again  and  again  by  the  quick 
S-Hke  curves  of  the  River  Wear — a  stream  which  is  not  a  sluggish 
canal  like  the  Ouse  at  Ely,  but  even  to  American  eyes  a  fine  little  river 
bordered  by  woods  that  have  the  true  forest  look.  All  along  the  west- 
ern bank  these  woods  extend,  and  up  the  face  of  that  great  steep  rock 
on  the  eastern  bank  which  supports  the  church,  jutting  out  like  a  bold 
cape  and  clasped  on  three  sides  by  a  horseshoe  sweep  of  the  stream. 
Where  the  cliff  is  steepest  toward  the  west  rises  the  front  of  the  cathe- 
dral, close  above  thick  clambering  trees ;  to  the  south  its  long  side 
overlooks  the  monastic  buildings  and  the  shady  gardens  which  touch 
the  Wear;  and  to  the  northward,  at  some  distance  but  still  on  the 
same  plateau,  springs  sheer  with  the  face  of  the  rock  a  great  castle 
founded  by  the  Conqueror.  Castle  and  church  together  form  a  group 
and  hold  a  station  to  which  we  may  find  parallels  on  the  Continent 
but  not  in  England.  And  I  think  there  can  be  nothing  else  in 
England,  or  in  all  the  world,  quite  like  the  walk  which  we  may  take 
along  the  river's  opposite  bank,  following  its  many  bends,  passing 
its  high  arched  bridges,  having  the  forest  on  the  one  hand  and  on 
the  other  the  matchless  panorama  that  man  has  worked  from  nature's 
brave  sugfofestions. 

The  usual  approach  to  the  promontory  is,  of  course,  from  the  town 
behind  it.  Through  a  steep  narrow  street  we  come  up  near  the  castle, 
and  thence,  beyond  the  broad  flat  Palace  Green,  we  see  the  north  side 
of  the  church  filling  the  whole  view  from  left  to  right — from  the  crowd- 
ing; houses  about  its  eastern  to  the  crowding-  trees  about  its  western  end. 

The  old  monastic  "congregation  of  St.  Cuthbert"  had  lapsed  into 
"secular"  ways  before  the  Normans  came.  But  the  second  Norman 
bishop,  William  of  Carilef,  made  radical  changes,  bringing  in  monks  from 
Wearmouth  and  Jarrow,  and  establishing  a  great  Benedictine  house  at 
Durham.  On  his  return  from  a  three-years  exile — the  price  he  paid 
for  his  share  in  the  rebellion  against  William  Rufus — he  set  about 
building  himself  a  new  cathedral  too.  Its  foundation-stones  were  laid 
beneath  the  eastern  end  of  the  choir  in  1093,  and  in  the  four  short 
years  which  remained  to  him  Carilef  seems  to  have  completed  the  choir, 
the  eastward  wall  of  the  transept,  the  crossing  with  its  tower,  the  ad- 
jacent first  bay  of  the  nave-arcade,  and  the  two  long  outer  (aisle)  walls 
of  the  nave. 

Three  years  after  his  death  Ralph  Flambard,  William  Rufus's  famous 
chancellor,  was  appointed  bishop.      During  these  years  the  monks  had 


88 


Hiig/is/i  C  '(r///n/ni/s. 


THE  WEST  END  OF  THE  NAVE,  FROM  THE  NORTH  DOOR. 


nearly  completed  the  transept,  and  Flambard  completed  the  whole  of 
the  nave  and  its  aisles  (exceptini^  the  roofs),  and  the  western  towers  up 
to  the  same  height  as  the  walls.  During  another  interregnum,  which 
followed  his  death  in  1128,  the  monks  roofed-in  his  nave  and  aisles; 
and  the  western  towers  were  finished  in  the  Transitional  period. 

The  windows  throughout  the  church  have  been  enlarged  from  time 
to  time.  The  east  end  of  the  choir  was  conspicuously  changed  in  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  the  vaulting  of  its  central  alley  was  renewed. 
In  the  fifteenth  century  the  central  tower  was  injured  by  lightning,  and 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Ciithbert — Durham.  89 

its  upper  portions  had  to  be  rebuilt.      But  with  these  exceptions  the 
whole  vast  Norman  body  remains  as  at  first  constructed. 


Ill 

Approaching  the  church  across  the  Palace  Green,  we  enter  by  what 
has  been  the  chief  doorway  since  the  twelfth  century — a  doorway 
toward  the  western  end  of  the  north  aisle ;  and  w^e  see  at  once  how 
greatly  the  interior  design  of  Durham  differs  from  that  of  the  typical 
Norman  church. 

The  vertical  proportioning  is  quite  unlike  what  we  have  found  at 
Peterborough;  the  pier-arcade  is  much  higher  and  the  triforium-ar- 
cade  relatively  lower.  Instead  of  a  uniform  succession  of  rectangular 
piers  with  attached  semi-shafts,  we  find  such  piers  alternating  with 
immense  cylindrical  ones,  not  shafted  or  moulded,  but  decorated  with 
deep  incised  lines  forming  various  patterns — spirals,  flutings,  and 
reticulations.  From  end  to  end  the  scheme  is  the  same ;  Flambard 
merely  carried  on  the  design  of  St.  Carilef  with  minor  constructional 
improvements  and  a  richer  amount  of  detail. 

Round  pillars  occur  in  the  early  mediaeval  work  of  every  land,  vary- 
ino-  from  slender  columns  to  much  sturdier  but  still  columnar  forms  such 
as  we  see  in  Notre  Dame  at  Paris,  and  to  still  more  massive  shapes 
where  the  column  is  no  longer  suggested,  but  the  immense  body,  built 
up  of  a  multitude  of  small  stones,  may  be  described  as  a  circular  piece 
of  walling,  and  the  relatively  insignificant  capital  as  a  mere  cornice 
curved  around  it.  The  Durham  piers  are  of  the  last-named  type,  and 
no  others  of  the  type  are  so  magnificent.  They  cannot  anywhere  be 
matched  for  immense  size,  for  fine  proportions,  or  for  the  wonderful 
effectiveness  of  their  incised  decoration.  With  their  aid  Carilef  and 
Flambard  created  the  most  imposing  interior  of  the  time.  The  unusual 
height  of  the  pier-arcade,  which  involves  of  course  the  same  height  in 
the  aisles,  prevents  the  tunnel-like  effect  which  distresses  us  a  little  at 
Peterborough,  and  gives  a  much  nobler  air  of  space  and  freedom,  while 
majesty  and  beauty  are  increased  by  the  contrasting  outlines  of  the 
alternated  piers.  This  interior  has  not  only  a  titanic  solemnity,  but  a 
titanic  pomp  which  takes  us  back  to  the  colonnades  of  Egypt.  But 
there  is  none  of  the  grace  of  Egyptian  columns  (which  are  true  columns 
despite  their  size)  in  the  cylindrical  piers  of  Durham,  and  the  design 
as  a  whole  is  less  refined  and  self-possessed  than  that  of  Peterborough; 
in  its  audacious  immensity  it  does  not  so  plainly  seem  to  be  the  per- 


90  Euglish  Cathedrals. 

fected  result  of  a  lonj^  and  consistent  development.  We  are  half 
tempted  to  say  that  Durham  is  almost  barbaric  as  compared  either 
with  the  more  reposeful  grandeur  of  Egypt  or  with  the  soberer  dig- 
nity of  typical  Norman  work.  Yet  its  good  proportioning  and  the 
reticent  nature  of  its  decoration,  so  boldly  yet  so  sparingly  applied, 
speak  of  cultivated,  practised  builders,  clever  of  hand  and  sensitive  of 
eye.  In  fact,  it  looks  just  as  it  should  look, — it  seems  the  work  of 
men  born  near  the  centre  of  contemporary  civilization  but  transplanted 
to  a  fresh  soil  on  its  outskirts,  breathing  the  air  of  the  adventurous 
north,  and  all  aflame  with  pride  and  vigor  from  the  recent  conquest 
of  a  realm.  Certainly  we  would  not  exchange  Durham  Cathedral,  on 
the  spot  where  it  stands,  for  any  other  church  in  the  world,  and  when 
possessed  by  the  spell  of  its  awful  beauty  we  can  hardly  remember 
that  any  other  church  in  the  world  is  so  fine. 

In  one  way  it  is  certainly  the  finest  of  all  the  great  Anglo-Norman 
churches.  All  its  parts  are  vaulted.  The  choir-vault  was  renewed  in 
the  latter  half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  but  the  nave-vault  is  still  as  it 
first  was  built,  with  the  main  or  transverse  arches  of  pointed  shape  but 
the  diagonal  arches  round,  and  the  great  ribs  adorned  by  Norman  zig- 
zags. The  character  of  the  shafts  which  flank  and  rise  above  the 
rectangular  piers  shows  that  some  sort  of  a  vault  was  contemplated 
when  the  walls  were  raised.  But  it  is  a  question  whether  this  vault 
was  actually  built  at  once  or  whether  a  flat  ceiling  was  used  for  a  time, 
as  we  know  to  have  been  the  case  in  the  south  transept-arm.  Some 
authorities  afiirm  that  it  was  built  at  once  and  give  its  date,  therefore, 
as  about  1130,  while  others  believe  it  was  not  constructed  until  near 
the  middle  of  the  following  century.  In  the  latter  case  it  would  belong 
to  a  period  when  the  Early  English,  or  Lancet- Pointed,  style  was  fully 
developed.  Mediaeval  architects  seldom  abandoned  current  fashions  for 
the  sake  of  harmonizing  their  work  with  their  predecessors',  so  it  seems 
unlikely  that  such  vaults — Transitional  in  form  and  Norman  in  deco- 
ration— can  have  been  erected  after  the  complete  triumph  of  the  Gothic 
style.  Yet  this  is  not  half  so  hard  to  believe  as  that  Transitional  vaults 
can  have  been  built  by  Anglo-Norman  architects  as  early  as  1 120,  ten 
years  before  the  construction  of  the  choir  of  St.  Denis,  where  the 
first  perfect  Gothic  vaults  were  achieved,  and  in  the  very  year  when 
the  Transitional  vaults  of  the  famous  portico  of  Vezelay  were  being 
raised.  Perhaps  we  may  conceive  it  possible  that  some  French  archi- 
tect gave  Durham's  vaults  their  present  shape  at  this  phenomenally 
early  day.      But,  if  so,  they  must  be  looked  upon  as  anomalies  in  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Cuthbert — Durham. 


91 


history  of  the  Enghsh  transition  from  Romanesque  to  Gothic  art, 
not,  like  the  vauks  of  St.  Denis,  as  representatives  of  a  general  ten- 
dency, as  a  stage  in  a  consistent  course  of  development.     As  late  as 


■*:'r 


'^:..  •'-*?  ~>f*v.<  ,? 


VIEW   FROM   THE  NAVE    INTO   THE  NORTH    ARM   OF  THE  TRANSEPT. 


the  very  end  of  this  century,  we  know,  Anglo-Normans  were  roofing 
all  their  other  great  naves  with  wood,  and  not  even  preparing  for  future 
vaults,  while  the  round  arch  still  ruled  the  whole  constructional  scheme. 


92 


Riiglish  Caflicih'als 


Of  course  such  a  ceiling  as  Durham's  is  not  only  grander  in  itself  than 
a  flat  one,  but  makes  the  whole  effect  of  the  church  much  grander, 
giving  added  height,  greater  unity,  and  a  far  nobler  look  of  strength. 
An  impression  of  "  rocky  solidity  and  indeterminate  duration  "  is  what 


THE  NAVE,  FROM  THE  NORTH  AISLE. 


Dr.  Johnson  said  he  received  in  Durham  Cathedral  when  starting  on 
his  Scottish  tour ;  but  all  his  most  sesquipedalian  adjectives  could  not 
have  translated  the  impression  which  it  really  produces. 

It  is  worth  noting  that  its  effect  must  always  have  been  pretty  nearly 
as  it  is  to-day.  So  few  remains  of  paint  have  been  found  on  the  walls 
that  it  seems  improbable  that  any  general  scheme  of  chromatic  adorn- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Cnthbert — Durhani. 


93 


ment  was  ever  applied  to  them.  Nor  is  the  eye  impelled,  as  in  so  many 
other  cases,  to  clothe  them  with  imagined  hues.  Nakedness  is  the  last 
word  which  suggests  itself;  color  could  hardly  add  to  the  beauty  of  this 
soft  warm  yellowish  stone,  accented  by  the  bands  of  carving  and  the 
strong  incised  patterns  on  the  circular  piers.  It  is  wonderful  to  see  what 
decorative  emphasis  is  given  by  so  simple  a  device  as  this  incising — 
what  an  amount  of  richness  and  vivacity  it  brings  into  the  seriousness 
of  the  immense  design.  We  are  sometimes  told  that  the  lines  were  prob- 
ably once  filled  with  metal  or  with  colored  pastes.  But  no  traces  of 
such  fillings  have  been  found,  the  incisions  are  much  deeper  than 
would  have  been  required  to  hold  them,  and,  again,  the  eye  does  not 
imagine  them  desirable.  No  colored  lines,  however  brilliant,  could  be 
so  effective  as  the  inky,  velvety  black  lines  of  shadow  which  now  con- 
trast with  the  gradually  shading  pale-yellow  tones  of  the  rounded  sur- 
faces. "  The  maximum  of  effect  with  the  minimum  of  means"  is  always 
a  sentence  of  praise,  and  one  rarely  sees  it  quite  as  well  deserved  as  by 
these  singular  decorations  at  Durham. 


IV 

The  main  entrance  to  the  church  was  originally  a  large  western  door 
opening  from  the  flat  margin  of  the  cliff  But  soon  after  1150  Bishop 
Hugh  de  Puiset  (who  was  a  nephew  of  King  Stephen,  and  is  commonly 
called  Bishop  Pudsey)  covered  this  part  of  the  rock,  quite  out  to  the 
embowering  trees  which  thence  descend  the  steep  slope  to  the  Wear, 
by  a  large  Galilee-chapel  a  single  story  in  height. 

The  porch,  or  narthe.x,  of  the  earliest  Christian  churches  sometimes 
survived  in  England  as  a  large  low  portico,  projecting  in  front  of  one 
of  the  principal  doors,  which  was  called  a  Galilee-porch  to  explain  that, 
like  the  ancient  narthex,  it  was  a  less  sacred  spot  than  the  interior  of 
the  church  itself  Such  a  porch  was  the  architectural  expression  of  the 
biblical  term  "Galilee  of  the  Gentiles";  but  while  Durham's  Galilee 
was  this,  it  was  something  more  as  well.  It  was  a  true  porch,  lying 
in  front  of  the  main  entrance  with  a  door  of  access  in  its  northern  side; 
but  it  was  a  Lady-chapel  also.  This  peculiar  composite  character  is 
explained  by  the  single  fault  which  tradition  fastens  upon  St.  Cuthbert. 
He  had  a  very  pronounced  dislike  for  women  :  or,  to  give  gentler  ex- 
planation to  the  foible  of  so  gentle  a  saint,  we  may  fancy  that  he  had  a 
very  godly  fear  of  them,  for  which,  deep  down  in  his  holy  bosom,  he 
felt  some  good  human  excuse.      Centuries  after  his  death  his  suscepti- 


94  Rnglisli  Cathedrals. 

bilities  were  respected  by  the  builders  of  the  present  church.  Far 
away  from  his  shrine,  near  the  west  end  of  the  nave,  they  worked  a 
hne  of  blue-stone  across  the  pavement,  and  with  almost  Mohammedan 
scorn  forbade  a  feminine  foot  to  cross  it.  And  when  in  later  days  men 
threatened  to  outrage  his  feelings,  the  saint  himself  remonstrated. 
When  Bishop  Pudsey  tried  to  build  a  chapel  for  the  Blessed  Virgin  in 
the  usual  place  —  eastward  of  the  choir — the  foundations  refused  to 
bear  their  load,  and  this,  of  course,  was  "a  manifest  sign"  that  the 
work  "was  not  acceptable  to  God  and  his  servant  Cuthberl."  So  Pud- 
sey began  again  westward  of  the  nave.  As  the  foundations  now  rested 
upon  rock,  no  supernatural  mandate  checked  him,  and,  seeming  to  have 
thought  the  ewes  of  his  flock  hardly  treated,  he  made  his  Lady-chapel 
in  Galilee  as  well,  "  into  which  women  might  lawfully  enter."  We  feel 
that  he  did  no  more  than  his  duty  by  the  sex  when  we  read  that  the 
first  person  interred  in  the  new  chapel  was  an  illegitimate  son  of 
his  own. 

But  the  most  famous  tenant  of  this  chapel  is  the  Venerable  Bede. 
Few  men  who  lived  so  long  ago  are  of  such  vital  interest  and  value  now 
as  Bede,  and  by  the  graves  of  few  can  we  feel  so  well  assured  that  they 
really  rest  within.  Bede  was  a  monk  at  Jarrow,  and  his  bones  reposed 
there  from  the  eighth  to  the  eleventh  century,  when  they  were  most 
])iously  stolen  by  the  sacrist  of  Durham  and  placed  in  Cuthbert's  hos- 
pitable coffin.  Pudsey  built  them  a  separate  shrine  which,  two  hundred 
years  later,  was  removed  into  his  chapel.  The  Reformers  destroyed 
it,  but  reburied  the  bones  beneath  a  plain  square  tomb ;  and  here  they 
were  searched  for  and  found  in  the  year  1830.  Then  was  cut  the  epi- 
taph which  we  now  may  read: 

"HAC    SUNT    IN    FOSSA   BED^    VENERABILIS    OSSA." 

But  its  words  are  of  high  traditional  antiquity  and,  of  course,  not  of  a 
mere  man's  inditing.  W^hen  the  early  sculptor  paused  to  find  a  fitting 
adjective,  an  angel  suggested  the  one  which  is  still  commonly  coupled 
with  the  old  historian's  name. 

The  chapel  in  which  he  sleeps  is  very  singular  and  charming.  It 
was  built  in  the  Transitional  period,  with  round-arched  arcades  divid- 
ing it  into  five  aisles  of  almost  equal  height,  the  elaborately  moulded 
arches,  carved  in  many  rows  of  zigzags,  resting  on  coupled  columns 
which  were  joined  by  their  bases  and  capitals  while  their  shafts  of  dark 
marble  stood  free.     To-day  the  effect  is  not  so  light  and  delicate  as 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Ciithbert — Diirhain. 


95 


when  the  eye  could  pass  between  these  coupled  shafts ;  for  in  later 
years  two  other  shafts,  not  of  dark  marble  but  of  stone,  were  added  to 
each  group,  forming  a  solid  moulded  pier.  But  the  forms  are  so  slender 
and  fragile  and  graceful  that,  despite  the  round  arches  and  the  zigzags, 
the  effect  is  not  characteristically  Norman.  It  certainly  is  not  Gothic 
either,  and  the  simple  scheme  of  arcades  without  upper  stories  or  vaults 


THE   G.\LU,EE-CH.\PEL. 


makes  it  seem  quite  unecclesiastic.  It  is  an  effect  which  was  never 
exactly  reproduced,  either  in  or  out  of  England,  but  which,  by  a 
scarcely  strained  comparison,  more  than  one  writer  has  called  "almost 
Saracenic."^ 

The  side-walls  of  the  Galilee  have  been  raised  and  its  windows 
have  been  enlarged  and  fitted  with  traceries.  No  west  window  sfives 
an  unobstructed  outward  view,  but  by  a  little  effort  we  may  get  par- 
tial glimpses  of  the  splendid  panorama  that  stretched  in  front  of  the 

1  The  cut  at  tlie  he.id  of  this  chapter  shows  one  of  the  cajiitals  in  ilie  Galilee-chapel. 


96 


ILiioiisli  C  'atlicdrals. 


'{^ 


doorways  of  the  church  Ixlorc  the  chapel  was  constructed.  For  the 
sake  of  this  panorama  the  chapel  came  nigh  to  perishing  a  hundred 
years  ago.  The  thrice  notorious  "restorer"  Wyatt  then  proposed  to 
pull  it  down  and  run  a  driveway  around  the  cliff;  and  the  dean  had  no 
thought  of  objecting  until  the  Society  of  Antiquaries  interfered. 

In  this  Durham  Galilee,  as  before  the  portico  of  Peterborough  and 
beneath  the  lantern  which  we  shall  find  at  Ely,  we  learn  why  English 
architecture  has  a  singular  charm  for  almost  every  tourist :  it  often  shows 
him  something  that  no  knowledge  of  other  things  has  led  him  to  ex- 
pect,— something  quite  individual,  apart,  and  fresh.  No  one  can  antici- 
pate how  an  I'.nglish  builder  may  have  planned  or  designed  any  part 
of  his  construction.  What  his  neighbors  were  doing  was  no  bond  upon 
him,  as  such  bonds  were  usually  felt  in  mediceval  years;  nor  did  he 
always  stop  to  think  whether  the  fundamental  laws  of  good  construction 
or  of  P"ood  desisfn  would  sanction  his  impulses.  Sometimes  he  made 
a  magnificent  mistake,  as  in  the  Peterborough  portico ;  sometimes  he 
made  a  magnificent  success,  as  in  the  Ely  lantern  ;  and  sometimes,  as 
in  this  Galilee  at  Durham,  he  produced  a  work  which,  although  by  no 
means  a  mistake,  charms  us  rather  by  pictorial  beauty  than  by  serious 
architectural  merit.  These  facts  must  stimulate  the  interest  of  all  trav- 
elers ;  Ijut  they  deepen  the  satisfaction  rather  of  the  uncritical  than  of 
the  critical  eye.  This  Galilee,  for  instance,  is  a  lovely  thing  to  look  at 
and  remember — a  surprising  delight  when  we  see  it,  a  unicjue  picture 
to  store  away  in  the  mental  gallery  we  are  gathering.  But  it  teaches 
us  little  with  regard  to  the  general  history  of  mediaeval  architecture. 
It  tells  us  nothing  of  what  went  before  or  after,  and  nothing  of  what 
was  being  done  elsewhere.  It  does  not  help  to  solidify  our  concep- 
tion of  that  steady  stream  of  progress  which  led  from  the  tentative 
round-arched  work  of  the  eleventh  century  to  the  perfected  Pointed 
work  of  the  thirteenth.  It  has  small  value  as  a  link  in  that  marvel- 
ous chain  of  logical  development  which  we  must  want  to  understand 
if  we  care  for  architecture  on  its  noblest  side.  Often,  as  we  travel 
through  England,  we  have  these  same  words  to  say ;  and  more  and 
more  the  impression  deepens  that  this  is  not  the  best  place  to  study 
mediaeval  art  from  the  historic  standpoint.  More  and  more  wejeel  that, 
as  .'\nglo-Norman  art  was  an  importation,  so,  for  a  long  time  after  its 
death,  the  impulse  toward  fresh  developments  came  from  e.xternal 
sources.  We  feel  this,  without  studying  dates  and  historic  facts,  simply 
because  we  see  no  such  consistently,  harmoniously  advancing  current 
of  art  as  meets  the  eye   in   France,  but,  instead,  many  proofs  that  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Ciithbert — Durham. 


97 


great  guiding  principles  of  Gothic  architecture  were  not  firmly  grasped 
and  many  signs  that  clever  individuals  worked  pretty  much  as  personal 
impulse  dictated. 


.  V  -% 

r 


THE  CATHEDRAL, 
TROM  THE  SOUTHEAST 


SHOWING   THE    EXTERIOR    OF 
THE    NINE    ALTARS. 


The  next  addition  to  Durham  cathedral  was  the  eastern  transept,  or 
Chapel  of  the  Nine  Altars,  begun  in  the  Early  English  period  and  finished 
in  the  Decorated.  Like  the  New  Building  at  Peterborough,  it  is  a  vast 
rectangular  apartment  lying  across  the  east  end  of  the  church.  But  its 
arrangement  is  different  in  many  ways.  It  is  considerably  broader  than 
the  church;  instead  of  rising  only  as  high  as  the  aisles,  it  is  as  lofty  as 
the  choir  proper;  and  three  vast  pointed  arches  connect  it  with  the 
church,  the  old  central  apse  as  well  as  the  choir-ends  having  been  torn 
down  to  make  room  for  it.      No  rows  of  columns  break  its  wide  and 


98  English  Cathedrals. 

soaring  space,  and  the  simply  designed  but  delicately  enriched  vault 
sweeps  overhead  in  magnificent  great  curves.  The  eastern  and  south- 
ern walls  are  divided  into  bays  of  different  widths  by  great  clusters  of 
shafts  which  bear  the  vaulting-ribs ;  in  tlic  broad  bay  that  forms  the 
centre  of  the  long  east  side  stands  a  group  of  three  lancet-windows 
witii  a  large  rose-window,  ninety  feet  in  circumference,  above  them ; 
and  in  each  of  the  narrower  bays  is  a  single  lancet  surmounted  by 
another  single  light.  The  north  side,  completed  at  a  later  day,  is  filled 
by  one  vast  Decorated  window  with  beautiful  geometric  traceries. 

Face  to  the  westward  now,  and  see  how  the  chapel  is  connected  w  ith 
the  choir-end  by  the  three  great  arches.  The  floor  of  the  choir  proper 
lies  considerably  higher  than  that  of  its  aisles,  but  even  these  lie  higher 
than  the  pavement  of  the  chapel,  so  beneath  each  of  the  lateral  arches  is 
a  flight  of  steps  leading  up  into  the  aisles.  Above  these  arches,  which 
rise  to  the  same  height  as  the  aisle-ceilings,  are  triforium -arcades  and 
then  clearstory-windows  looking  out  above  the  aisle-roofs,  while  on 
either  side,  where  the  chapel  stretches  beyond  the  aisle-walls,  are  tall 
lancet-windows  in  double  ranges.  The  central  arch  rises  as  high  as 
the  choir-ceiling,  and  below  is  blocked  by  the  end  of  the  choir-floor, 
projecting  as  a  raised  platform;  and  upon  this  platform,  within  the 
choir  but  visible  from  the  chapel,  stood  St.  Cuthbert's  shrine. 

All  around  the  chapel,  beneath  the  windows  and  across  the  face  of  the 
platform,  runs  a  graceful  arcade  with  trefoiled  arches  and  dark  marble 
shafts,  its  rich  details  having  grown  from  lovely  Early  English  to  love- 
lier Decorated  as  the  work  grew  from  east  to  west;  and  under  this 
arcade  against  the  eastern  wall  stood  the  nine  altars  Irom  which  the 
structure  took  its  name. 

It  would  be  hopeless  to  try  to  paint  the  beauty  of  this  chapel,  where 
the  simplicity  of  the  design  was  so  exquisitely  adorned,  yet  so  well  pre- 
served, by  the  decorations.  The  ancient  figured  glass  has  perished 
and  the  ancient  painted  color.  Many  of  the  lancets  still  keep  the  tra- 
ceries with  which  they  were  filled  in  the  Perpendicular  period,  and  the 
rose-window — clearly  seen  through  the  great  choir-arch  from  the  very 
west  end  of  the  church  —  was  rebuilt  by  Wyatt.  But  the  traceries  do 
not  really  hurt  the  effect  save  to  a  purist's  eye.  The  modern  glass  is 
unusually  good,  except  in  one  window  where  it  is  phenomenally  bad. 
Most  of  the  sculptor's  work  remains,  and  all  the  striking  color  which 
the  architect  produced  by  setting  against  his  pale-yellow  stone  great 
shafts  and  capitals  of  black  polished  marble  beautifully  flecked  with 
fossil    shells.     To   the   modern    architect   the   most  remarkable  points 


TJie  CatJiedml  of  St.  Citthbert — DiirJiam. 


99 


THE  CATHEDRAL   FROM   THE  NORTHWEST. 


about  the  chapel  are  the  way  in  which  the  vaulting-ribs  were  made  to 
unite  and  harmonize  the  alien  western  and  eastern  walls,  and  the  way 
in  which  the  end  of  the  church  was  altered,  so  that  the  transition  be- 
tween plain  massive  Norman  and  light  elaborate  Gothic  work  might 
not  be  too  abrupt.  Among  all  the  examples  of  constructive  ingenuity 
and  of  artistic  feeling  that  I  saw  in  England  there  was  none  which 
impressed  me  quite  so  forcibly  as  the  management  of  this  transition. 

The  Nine  Altars  was  proposed  and  prepared  for  by  Bishop  Le  Poore, 
begun  in  1242  by  Melsanby,  the  prior  of  the  convent  under  Bishop 
Farnham,  and  finished  probably  under  Bishop  Robert  of  Holy  Island, 
about  forty  years  having  gone  to  its  perfecting.  Who  was  its  actual 
designer  cannot  be  said,  but  the  name  of  one  architect  concerned  with 
it  has  been  accidentally  preserved.  Local  documents  always  call  it  the 
nova  fabrica  ;  and  in  one  such  document,  a  real-estate  conveyance  now 
in  the  chapter-library,  a  witness  is  written  down  as  Magister  Ricardus 
de  FarinJiam  tunc  arcJiitcctor  novce  fabricce  Dutieliii.     It  is  probable  that 


loo  English  Cathedrals. 

this  Richard  Farnham  was  a  relative  of  Bishop  Farnham.  But  who- 
ever he  was,  and  however  great  or  small  his  share  in  the  chapel,  we  are 
glad  for  him  that  he  has  thus  emerged  from  that  mediaeval  limbo  which 
is  filled  by  so  many  great  artists'  nameless  shades. 


VI 

The  picture  made  by  Durham's  rocky  pedestal  and  rock-like  church 
and  castle  is  as  interesting  to  the  mind  as  to  the  eye,  for  it  clearly  ex- 
presses a  combination  of  temporal  with  ecclesiastical  grandeur  which 
was  unique  in  the  kingdom  of  England. 

In  Norman  days  the  bishops  of  Durham  were  made  palatine-princes 
as  well,  and  allowed  to  rule  over  a  wide  surrounding  district  with  al- 
most autocratic  powers  and  privileges.  Thenceforward  during  four  hun- 
dred years  they  were  the  judicial  and  military  as  well  as  the  spiritual 
lords  of  their  people.  They  owed  the  king  feudal  service,  but  they 
owed  him  little  else.  Those  who  did  wrong  within  their  borders  were 
said  to  have  broken,  not  the  peace  of  the  king,  but  the  peace  of  the 
bishop ;  and  with  the  bishop  rested  the  power  of  life  and  death  even 
when  murder  or  treason  itself  was  in  question.  The  bishops  of  Ely 
were  the  only  other  prelates  in  England  to  whom  palatine  powers  were 
given;  and  at  Ely  these  powers  meant  very  much  less  in  practice  than 
they  did  among  the  successors  of  Cuthbert.  No  English  lords  save  the 
palatine-counts  of  Chester  equaled  in  degree  of  independent  authority 
and  local  influence  the  palatine-bishops  of  Durham.  Far  from  the  centre 
of  royal  rule,  the  king  was  content  to  let  them  do  as  they  liked  with 
their  own,  asking  in  return  that  they  should  keep  a  keen  eye  and  a 
strong  hand  upon  the  ever-threatening,  often  flaming,  Scottish  Border. 
As  a  consequence,  the  bishops  of  Durham  figure  on  history's  page 
more  like  great  military  than  like  great  ecclesiastical  rulers.  Some- 
times they  were  high-placed  functionaries  at  the  court  of  the  king;  but 
more  often  they  remained  in  their  own  diocese,  lording  it  in  that  great 
castle  which  served  them  instead  of  a  palace,  or  fighting  the  Scotch, 
now  single-handed  and  now  beneath  the  banner  of  the  king. 

The  most  powerful  and  splendid  of  them  all  was  Anthony  Bek,  who 
died  in  1310.  He  was  called  "the  proudest  lord  in  Chrestientie,"  and 
we  can  well  understand  why  when  we  read  of  him  as  prince-bishop  of 
Durham,  king  of  the  Isle  of  Man,  and  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem  ;  when  we 
hear  how  he  went  with  Edward  I.  to  Scotland  with  twenty-six  standard- 
bearers  and  a  hundred  and  sixty-four  knights  as  his  private  following. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Citthbert — Durhaiu.  loi 

and  with  fifteen  hundred  soldiers  of  the  Palatinate  who  were  also  bound 
to  do  his  personal  bidding;  and  when  we  learn  how  the  "court  of  Dur- 
ban! "  exhibited  in  his  day  all  the  pomp  and  etiquette  of  a  royal  house- 
hold. "  Nobles  addressed  the  palatine  sovereign  kneeling,  and  instead 
of  menial  servants,  knights  waited  in  his  presence-chamber  and  at  his 

table   bare-headed  and  standing His  liberality  knew  no 

bounds,  and  he  regarded  no  expenses,  however  enormous,  when  placed 
in  competition  with  any  object  of  pleasure  or  magnificence."  Even  the 
^reat  king  Edward  was  moved  to  fear  or  envy  by  his  wealth  and  power 
and,  perhaps,  ambition.  But  Edward  II.  took  him  back  into  favor,  and 
he  remained  bishop  and  prince  till  his  death.  He  spent  much  on  build- 
ings as  well  as  in  every  other  way,  yet  he  left  greater  riches  behind 
him  than  any  of  his  forerunners ;  and  despite  his  extravagance  and  pomp 
he  is  described  as  an  active,  industrious,  and  singularly  temperate  man. 

It  is  impossible  here  to  hint  at  even  the  most  remarkable  bishops  who 
filled  this  powerful  chair,  or  at  even  the  most  important  wars  in  which 
they  played  conspicuous  parts — wars  which  sometimes  eddied  about  the 
very  foot  of  the  pedestal  where  their  church  and  castle  stood.  Even 
the  private  history  of  the  monastery  might  furnish  forth  a  long  and 
lively  chapter,  for  the  monks  of  Durham  seem  to  have  been  almost  as 
turbulent  as  the  people  of  the  Border,  or  else  the  bishops  ruled  them 
with  a  hand  made  heavy  by  long  wielding  of  temporal  weapons.  Feuds 
within  the  convent  were  constantly  occurring,  and  long  and  bitter  dis- 
putes about  the  episcopal  succession ;  and  more  than  once  there  was 
riot,  if  not  bloodshed,  within  the  very  walls  of  the  church. 

History  and  poetry  have  done  even  more  than  constructive  art  to 
make  the  name  of  this  cathedral  famous.  "  Half  house  of  God,  half 
•castle  'gainst  the  Scot,"  it  is  constantly  pictured  by  bards  and  chroni- 
clers from  those  of  the  earliest  time  down  to  that  modern  singer  who 
interweaves  its  grandeur  with  the  tale  of  Marmion.  And  whenever, 
wherever,  we  find  it  referred  to,  it  is  not  as  the  mere  resting-place  of 
some  saint  beloved  of  pilgrims,  or  as  the  mere  sponsor  of  some  prelate 
whose  life  was  largely  separated  from  its  own,  but  as  the  veritable 
home  of  mighty  rulers,  as  itself  a  mighty  stronghold  and  the  centre  of 
local  military  life.  Truly  the  records  of  these  English  sees  are  as  di- 
verse among  themselves  as  each  in  itself  is  picturesquely  varied.  Far 
more  than  was  the  case  with  any  other  English  see,  the  power  of  Dur- 
ham made  the  power  of  the  men  who  sat  on  its  throne.  For  a  parallel 
to  the  role  which  it  played  in  history  we  must  look  abroad — to  the 
great  episcopal  fortress-towns  of  France  or  to  the  great  electoral  bish- 

•7* 


I02 


English  Cathedrals 


oprics  of  Germany.  Thus,  I  repeat,  its  admirable  position  —  set  on 
its  truculent  rock  and  supported  Iiy  its  frowning  castle  —  has  an  even 
greater  historic  tlian  pictorial  value. 


X 


^'^W 


l^::-^:'. 


THE  BISHOPS  THRONE. 


VII 

At  Canterbury  primate  and  abbot,  warrior,  prince,  and  king,  were 
sepultured  close  about  St.  Thomas,  the  posthumous  association  being 
thought  to  honor  and  to  profit  them  and  in  no  way  to  dishonor  or  dis- 
please the  martyr.  It  was  thus  at  Westminster,  too,  around  the  shrine 
of  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  in  almost  all  mediaeval  churches  in  all 
countries.  But  it  was  very  different  at  Durham.  Never  was  a  dead 
saint  so  "exclusive  "  as  St.  Cuthbert,  who  had  been  so  meek  and  humble 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Ciithbert — Diirhaui.  103 

while  alive.  Not  only  all  feet  of  living  women  but  all  bones  of  departed 
men  were  strictly  forbidden  to  approach  his  thrice-holy  shrine,  or  even 
to  rest  beneath  the  wide-stretching  roof  that  covered  it.  Naturally  no 
king  or  prince  sought  burial  at  Durham;  and  local  dignitaries,  even 
though  as  mighty  as  Flambard  himself,  were  interred  outside  the  church, 
the  chapter-house  being  the  most  honorable  place  assigned  to  them. 

This  rule  was  enforced  until  great  Anthony  Bek  came  to  die.  He 
was  buried  in  the  Nine  Altars  ;  but  a  tradition  (which  architectural  evi- 
dence proves  false,  but  which  is  significant  none  the  less)  says  that 
even  his  body  might  not  be  carried  through  the  church,  ard  that  a 
break  was  made  in  the  chapel-wall  to  admit  it.  Thirty  yea/s  later  the 
first  layman  was  interred  in  the  church  —  Ralph,  Lord  Neville,  who  had 
commanded  the  English  at  the  battle  of  Neville's  Cross.  But  even  in 
subsequent  centuries  burials  were  rare  in  Durham,  and  the  only  monu- 
ment which  now  stands  in  its  choir  is  that  of  Bishop  Hatfield,  who  died 
in  1381. 

This  monument  was  built  by  Hatfield  himself  and  is  surely  one  of 
the  most  self-asserting  of  all  such  anticipatory  memorials.  The  tomb 
proper  is  low  and  modest  enough  —  a  mere  sarcophagus  upon  which 
lies  an  alabaster  figure  of  the  prelate.  But  above  it,  forming  a  vast 
structure  which  seems  to  exist  simply  to  protect  and  honor  it,  rises  the 
episcopal  throne.  Here  every  subsequent  bishop  has  sat,  and  with  each 
must  have  seemed  to  sit  the  spirit  of  Hatfield.  No  such  splendid  cathe- 
dra was  ever  built  elsewhere  in  England;  but  its  splendor  was  wholly 
appropriate  as  expressing  the  paramount  temporal  power  of  Durham's 
incumbents.  This  was  the  throne,  not  of  a  bishop  merely,  but  of  a  prince- 
palatine  as  well.  Now  that  the  old  palatine  powers  and  privileges 
have  gone  to  the  crown,  one  may  think,  perhaps,  that  Queen  Victoria 
has  a  better  right  to  sit  upon  it  than  the  ecclesiastic  who  preserves  so 
scant  a  shred  of  temporal  authority. 

But  despite  the  lack  of  tombs,  this  throne  was  not  the  only  thing  which 
in  earlier  ages  made  Durham's  choir  magnificent.  An  immense  four- 
teenth-century reredos,  elaborately  carved  with  niches  containing  more 
than  a  hundred  figures,  rose  behind  the  high  altar.  Lines  of  carved  stalls 
encircled  the  singers'  choir.  At  the  end  of  the  north  aisle,  near  the  Nine 
Altars,  "  was  the  goodliest  fair  porch,  which  was  called  the  Anchorage, 
having  a  marvelous  fair  rood  with  the  most  exquisite  pictures  of  Marv 
and  John,  with  an  altar  for  a  monk  to  say  daily  mass,  being  in  ancient 
times  inhabited  with  an  anchorite.  .  .  ."  Opposite,  at  the  end  of 
the  south  aisle,  was  a  screen  "  all  adorned  with  fine  wainscot  work  and 


104  English  Cathedrals. 

curious  painting,"  in  front  of  which  stood  the  "Black  Rood  of  Scotland," 
taken  from  King  David  at  the  battle  of  Neville's  Cross,  made  of  silver 
and  "  being,  as  it  were,  smoked  all  over."  At  the  western  end  of  the 
north  aisle  stood  another  "porch"  and  rood;  and,  of  course,  the  chief 
screen  of  all  shut  off  the  choir  proper  from  the  rest  of  the  church,  stand- 
ing just  west  of  the  crossing,  flanked  by  the  great  Neville  chantry. 

English  Puritans  seem  to  have  spared  the  furnishings  as  well  as  the 
body  of  Durham.  But  much  damage  was  done  by  Scottish  prisoners 
who  were  confined  within  it  in  1650,  more  was  done  by  renovations  in  the 
last  century,  and  still  more  by  "  restorations"  in  the  first  half  of  our  own. 
Everything  has  gradually  been  swept  out  of  the  choir  except  the  throne 
which  has  lost  its  color  and  gilding,  the  reredos  which  now  lacks  its  hun- 
dred figures,  and  the  stalls  which  were  sadly  cut  and  altered  some  forty 
years  ago.  At  this  time  too  was  ruthlessly  destroyed  a  splendid  Renais- 
sance choir-screen  built  by  Bishop  Cosin  in  1660  to  replace  the  ruined 
ancient  one  of  stone.  Its  superb  carvings  of  black  oak  seemed  to  modern 
purists  out  of  keeping  with  a  mediaeval  interior,  though  in  reality  they 
must  have  harmonized  well  with  the  heavy  Norman  forms  about  them; 
and  modern  eyes  thought  it  a  pity  that  there  should  not  be  a  "  clear 
view"  from  end  to  end  of  the  great  church,  thougli  no  such  view  would 
have  been  tolerated  by  its  builders,  the  choir  being  the  monk.s'  and  the 
nave  the  laity's  place  of  worship.  The  present  screen  is  a  fragile,  un- 
dignified tracery  of  white  marble  —  "  pure"  pseudo-Gothic,  very  likely, 
but  very  certainly  a  more  inappropriate  feature  than  was  the  massive 
wooden  structure  of  which  a  few  fragments  may  be  studied  in  the  castle. 

But  the  supreme  ornament  of  Durham's  choir  was  St.  Cuthbert's 
shrine.  This  stood,  as  has  been  said,  in  the  choir  behind  the  high  altar, 
on  a  floor  raised  above  the  level  of  the  aisles  and  projecting  like  a  plat- 
form into  the  Nine  Altars.  Steps  for  the  use  of  pilgrims  led  up  from 
the  aisles,  and  doors  in  the  reredos  admitted  the  ecclesiastics.  The 
shrine,  as  we  read  of  it,  was  rebuilt  in  1380.  A  ba.se  of  green  marble 
was  worked  into  four  seats  where  cripples  or  invalids  might  get  rest 
and  healing,  and  upon  this  base  stood  a  great  work  of  enamel  and 
gold  sprinkled  with  princely  jewels,  containing  "the  treasure  more 
precious  than  gold  or  topaz,"  and  shadowed  by  that  banner  of  St. 
Cuthbert  which  went  so  often  over  the  Border,  and  by  many  another 
flag  dedicated  by  an  English  or  captured  from  a  Scottish  hand. 

At  the  time  of  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries,  Henry's  "visitors" 
broke  open  the  shrine  and  within  it  found  St.  Cuthbert  "lying  whole, 
uncorrupt,  with  his  face  bare,  and  his  beard  as  of  a  fortnight's  growth, 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Cuthbert — Durham. 


105 


and  all  his  vestments  about  him."  They  destroyed  the  shrine,  but 
respected  the  body  and  reburied  it  beneath  the  floor  —  and  this  by 
express  order  of  the  king-,  the  saint  of  Durham  having  incited  to  super- 
stition merely,  and  not,  like  the  saint  of  Canterbury,  to  treason  also. 
In    1827  the  tomb  was  again  opened,  and   in   the  presence  of  more 


if 


rfi 


iri 


THE  NORTH  SIDE  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  DUN  COW  LANE. 


scientific  observers.  In  it  was  found  the  coffin  which  was  made  b)' 
Henry's  officers  in  1542;  within  this  the  successive  fragments  of  two 
other  coffins,  proved  by  their  decorations  to  be  those  of  the  interment 
at  Durham  in  Flambard's  time  (1104),  and  of  the  original  interment  at 
Lindisfarne  in  698;  and  then  an  entire  skeleton  wrapped  in  the  rags  of 
once-rich  robes,  and  a  second  skull.     The  bones  were  reverentially  re- 


io6  English  Catlicdyals. 

placed,  but  the  other  objects  found  in  the  tomb  may  now  be  seen  in  the 
chapter-library:  an  ivory  comb;  a  tiny  oaken  portable  altar  plated  with 
silver ;  an  exquisitely  embroidered  stole  and  maniple  of  Old  English 
workmanship ;  another,  later,  maniple  ;  part  of  a  girdle  and  two  bracelets 
woven  of  gold  and  scarlet  threads  ;  a  gold  cross  set  with  garnets,  at  least 
as  ancient  as  St.  Cuthbert's  own  time ;  and  pieces  of  rich  figured  robes 
of  Oriental  or  Sicilian  origin.  The  altar  and  the  comb  agree  with  a 
description  given  of  the  contents  of  the  coffin  when  it  was  examined  in 
1 104;  and  the  more  ancient  embroideries  have  been  identified  by  the 
lettering  they  bear  as  those  which  Athelstan  is  recorded  to  have  given 
to  the  shrine  when  he  visited  it  at  Chester-le-Street  in  the  year  934. 
Can  the  most  skeptical  tourist  think  that  either  here  or  by  the  tomb  of 
Bede  such  sentiment  as  he  may  have  to  spend  will  be  wasted  on  menda- 
cious bones?  Surely  here  beneath  the  pavement  of  Durham's  choir 
must  veritably  sleep  the  body  of  St.  Cuthbert  the  monk  and  the  head 
of  St.  Oswald  the  king. 

VIII 

The  west  front  of  Durham  is  one  of  the  finest  in  England.  Its  rich 
yet  simple  Norman  and  Transitional  features  are  enlivened  but  not  dis- 
turbed by  the  great  middle  window  which  was  inserted  in  the  Decorated 
period  ;  and  the  low  projecting  Galilee  does  not  seem  at  all  out  of  place, 
as  the  nearness  and  the  steepness  of  the  cliff  premise  that  here  the  main 
entrance  will  hardly  be  found. 

The  huge  imperial  majesty,  though  not  the  beauty,  of  the  building  is 
best  realized  from  the  Palace  Green,  where  the  whole  north  side  lies  un- 
shrouded  before  us.  But  here  too  we  most  clearly  see,  on  near  approach, 
how  fortunate  it  would  have  been  had  Wyatt  and  others  like  him  never 
lived.  In  ignorant  distrust  of  the  effects  which  the  weathering  of  seven 
centuries  had  wrought,  they  flayed  and  cut  and  pared  the  mighty  sur- 
face with  a  pitiless  hand,  removing  in  many  places  several  inches' depth 
of  stone,  and  actually  casing  the  central  tower  with  cement.  As  much 
as  possible  has  been  done  in  recent  years  to  repair  their  ravage.  But 
the  beautiful  color  and  texture  which  time  alone  can  give  have  perished, 
and  the  planed-off  inches  have  left  the  mouldings  and  window-jambs 
so  shallow  that  the  old  accent  of  massiveness  and  force  is  hopelessly 
impaired. 

No  one  but  an  Englishman,  and  no  Englishman  born  earlier  than 
the  Perpendicular  period,  would  have  built  a  great  church-tower  like 
this  central  one  at  Durham  —  so  tall  and  massive  yet  so  simple  in  out- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Ciithbert — Durham.  107 

line,  and  finished  by  a  parapet  with  no  thought  of  a  spire  or  of  any 
visible  sort  of  roof.  The  earlier  western  towers  had  been  given  wooden 
spires  covered  with  lead ;  but  in  the  seventeenth  century  these  were 
removed,  and  in  the  eighteenth  the  turreted  battlements  were  added. 
Continental  critics  would  tell  us  that  such  a  group  as  we  now  behold 
has  far  too  military  an  air  to  be  ecclesiastically  appropriate.  The  ques- 
tion is  one  for  taste,  not  argument,  to  decide.  But  I  may  say  that  if 
spireless  battlemented  towers  can  ever  be  appropriate  upon  a  church, 
they  surely  are  upon  Durham's.  If  ever  a  house  of  God  could  lawfully 
assume  a  semi-military,  half-forbidding,  wholly  uncompromising  air,  it 
was  surely  the  one  where  the  palatine-bishops  were  throned. 

Yet  this  church  held  the  shrine  of  the  peaceful  Cuthbert  as  well  as 
the  chair  of  the  warlike  Bek,  and  in  its  far-off  greatest  years  it  played 
a  role  of  gentle  ecclesiastical  ministrance  as  well  as  of  stern  ecclesiastical 
control.  Many  a  blood-stained  foot  has  fled  wildly  toward  it  over  the 
broad  Palace  Green,  and  many  an  innocent  foot  hounded  by  accusing 
cries.  It  was  a  famous  "  sanctuary  "  where  any  culprit  charged  with 
any  crime  could  find  inviolable  shelter,  kindly  entertainment  for  thirty- 
seven  days,  and  then,  if  still  unjustified  or  unpardoned,  safe  transpor- 
tation to  the  coast  and  passage  over-seas  —  paying  only  by  a  full 
confession  and  a  solemn  oath  never  to  return  to  England.  From  a 
chamber  over  the  north  porch  a  monk  watched  ceaselessly  to  give  im- 
mediate entrance ;  and  even  before  entrance  was  given,  as  soon  as 
the  knocker  on  the  door  was  grasped,  "  St.  Cuthbert's  peace"  was  won. 
The  chamber  was  destroyed  by  Wyatt,  but  the  knocker  hangs  where 
it  has  hung  since  late-Norman  days.  The  empty  eye-sockets  of  the 
grotesque  yet  splendid  mask  of  bronze  were  once  filled,  perhaps,  with 
crystal  eyeballs;  or,  perhaps, — and  this  is  what  we  prefer  to  fancy, — 
a  flame  was  set  behind  them  that  even  he  might  not  go  astray  whose 
flight  should  be  in  the  darkness. 

High  up  on  the  northern  end  of  the  Nine  Altars  stand  the  sculptured 
figures  of  a  milkmaid  and  a  cow.  The  group  is  comparatively  modern, 
but  it  perpetuates  a  very  ancient  legend.  It  was  a  woman  seeking  her 
strayed  beast  who  guided  the  bearers  of  St.  Cuthbert's  coffin  when  they 
could  not  find  the  "  Dunholme"  where  he  wished  to  rest. 


IX 

On  the  south  side  of  the  cathedral  we  find  the  sfreat  aeSfresfate  of 
once-monastic  buildings  in  a  singularly  complete  condition.     When  the 


loS 


Ji/ii^/is/i  Cathedrals. 


monastery  was  "resigned"  to  King  Henry  \'III..  and  when  the  chapter 
was  dissolved  during  the  Commonwealth,  the  buildings  were  not  greatly 
disfigured;  and  in  1660,  at  the  time  of  the  Restoration,  the  chapter  was 
reconstituted  with  Sudbury  as  dean.     In  consequence,  there  is  no  place 


THE    CATHEDRAL    FROM    THE    NORTH. 


in  England  where  we  can  so  well  understand  what  a  great  monastery 
looked  like  in  pre- Reformation  days,  or  how  its  populous  colony  lived. 
We  should  find  the  picture  still  more  complete  but  for  the  demon  of 
last-century  renovation.  The  chapter-house,  for  instance,  kept  its  Nor- 
man form  uninjured  until  the  year  1796 — a  great  oblong  room  finished 
toward  the  east  with  a  semicircular  apse,  vaulted  throughout,  paved 
with  many  sepulchral  slabs  bearing  famous  ecclesiastical  names,  and 
encircled  by  a  tall  arcade  with  intersecting  arches,  below  which  was  a 
stone  bench  for  the  monks  in  council,  and  at  the  east  end  a  stone  chair 
where  the  long  line  of  prelate-princes  had  sat  for  consecration.  No 
other  Norman  chapter-house  as  fine  as  this  remained  in  England,  and 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Cuthbert — Durham.  109 

no  other  building  whatsoever  to  show  how  the  Normans  had  vaulted 
their  apses.  Yet,  to  make  things  more  comfortable  for  modern  dean 
and  canon,  the  apse  and  the  adjacent  walls  for  about  half  the  length  of 
the  room  were  pulled  down,  and  the  mutilated  remainder  was  inclosed 
and  floored  and  plastered  so  that  not  a  sign  of  its  splendid  stones  re- 
mained. A  few  years  ago,  however,  these  stones  were  again  exposed  to 
view,  and  the  ground  outside,  once  covered  by  the  apse,  was  carefully 
examined.  Several  very  ancient  tombs  were  then  identified,  and  in  the 
library  may  now  be  seen  three  episcopal  rings  which  were  found  within 
them — all  set  with  great  sapphires,  and  one  of  them  having  been 
Ralph  Flambard's. 

Our  plan  will  show  how  the  chapter-house  opens  upon  one  side 
of  the  cloister  and  how  its  other  sides  are  built  against  the  church 
itself  the  dormitory  and  the  refectory.  The  arrangement  has  always 
been  the  same ;  but  almost  all  parts  of  the  buildings  have  been  more 
than  once  renewed.  The  cloister-walks  date  from  the  Perpendicular 
period,  as  does  the  dormitory  above  its  crypt,  while  from  the  same  level 
the  refectory  was  rebuilt  after  the  Restoration.  The  dormitory  formed 
for  many  years  part  of  a  canon's  house,  but  has  now  been  brought  back 
as  nearly  as  possible  to  its  old  estate.  The  wooden  partitions  which 
divided  it  into  separate  sleeping-cells  have  disappeared,  of  course ;  but 
one  hardly  regrets  their  absence,  as  it  leaves  free  to  the  eye  the  whole 
vast  interior, — 194  feet  in  length, — lighted  by  ranges  of  noble  traceried 
windows  and  covered  by  an  oaken  ceiling,  rude  yet  massive  and  grand 
in  effect,  the  great  tree-trunks  which  form  its  beams  scarcely  having 
been  squared  by  the  axe.  The  room  now  holds  a  portion  of  the 
valuable  chapter-library,  and  sundry  other  interesting  collections — of 
brilliant  episcopal  vestments,  of  coins  and  seals,  and  of  Roman,  Old 
English,  and  Norman  antiquities  of  Northumbrian  origin. 

The  main  portion  of  the  library,  including  a  collection  of  illuminated 
manuscripts  which  has  hardly  a  superior  in  England  outside  of  the  British 
Museum,  is  housed  in  the  old  refectory.  Here,  too,  are  kept  the  relics 
which  were  found  in  St.  Cuthbert's  grave  and  the  fragments  of  his 
earlier  coffins.  He  who  wishes  to  understand  the  far-off  roots  and  the 
first  crude  growths  of  mediaeval  art  in  the  north  of  England  finds  his 
best  place  of  study  in  these  richly  filled  and  wisely  administered  libra- 
ries at  Durham.^ 

1 1  should  be  very  ungrateful  did  I  forget  to  note  whose  pleasure  and  instruction  infinite  pains  are  will- 
that  in  one  important  respect  Durham  stands  at  the  ingly  taken  by  all  dignitaries  and  officials,  from  the 
head  of  the  English  cathedrals.  Here,  of  all  places,  highest  to  the  humblest.  I  find  X  am  by  no  means 
the  tourist  feels  himself  a  welcome  guest,  and  one  for  alone  in  remembering  one  of  the  vergers,  Mr.  Wea- 


iio  Hiii^^/is/i  Catlicih'als. 


^>' 


Many  minor  rooms  and  buildings  lie  around  or  near  this  cloister, 
chief  in  interest  the  monastery  kitchen.  I  think  there  is  but  one  other 
kitchen  of  the  sort  still  intact  in  England,  and  that  one — at  Glaston- 
bury—  now  stands  isolated  in  a  field  and  never  knows  the  warmth  of 
useful  fires,  while  this  one  still  serves  the  household  of  the  dean.  It  is 
a  great  octagonal  structure,  with  a  steep  roof  which  covers  a  remarkable 
vaulted  ceiling  —  so  stately  a  structure  that  a  passer-by,  used  to  modern 
ways  of  living  and  modern  architectural  devices,  would  (but  for  its  chim- 
neys) surely  think  it  a  baptistery  or  a  chapel,  never  a  kitchen.  The 
old  priors'  house  also  remains  as  the  dwelling  of  the  modern  deans,  Init 
altered  in  the  usual  practical  irreverent  way,  the  private  chapel  forming 
now  three  chambers. 

Beyond  all  these  stretch  the  dean's  lovely  gardens,  the  quiet  circle  of 
the  canons'  houses,  and  the  quiet  sweep  of  their  own  outer  gardens  look- 
ing down  upon  the  Wear.  So  much  remains  at  Durham,  in  short,  that 
it  is  hard  to  remember  that  certain  things  have  perished  even  here, 
among  them  the  hospice  of  the  monastery  and  its  church-like  hospital. 

The  picture  is  not  quite  so  lovely  as  that  which  greater  ruin  has 
wrought  at  Canterbury.  But  it  is  as  beautiful  in  a  soberer  fashion,  and 
it  has  the  added  charm  of  a  lifted  outlook  over  a  splendid  landscape. 
Surely  there  can  be  nothing  like  it  in  all  the  world — nothing  at  once 
so  homogeneous  yet  so  infinitely  varied,  so  old  in  body  yet  so  alive  and 
fresh  in  mood.  There  is  no  class  or  kind  of  building  which  is  not  rep- 
resented between  the  castle  on  the  northern  and  the  garden-walls  upon 
the  southern  verge  of  this  rich  promontory.  There  is  scarcely  a  year  of 
the  last  eight  hundred  which  has  not  somewhere  left  some  traces  upon 
it.  There  is  no  sort  of  life  which  it  has  not  seen,  and  the  sort  which 
prevails  to-day  is  as  wholly  different  from  the  ancient  sorts  as  fancy  could 
conceive.  Yet  nowhere  can  we  choose  a  date  and  say.  Here  the  old 
life  ceased  and  the  new  began.  Nowhere  can  we  put  finger  on  a  stone 
and  say.  This  was  to  serve  religion  only,  or  material  existence  only,  or 
only  war  or  ostentation  ;  or.  This  was  for  use  alone,  or  for  beauty 
alone.  All  times  are  here  and  all  things  are  here,  and  all  aims  and 
motives  have  here  found  expression  ;  but  all  things  are  intertwined  in 
one  great  entity,  and  all  times  join  in  one  vast  historic  panorama. 

And  this  means  that  this  is  England.     Not  in  some  new  Birmingham, 

therall,  as  a  pearl  of  his  kind.    More  than  one  widely  interesting  to  the  ignorant  yet  instructive  even  to  the 

traveled  architect  has  cited  him  in  my  hearing  as  professional  sight-seer,  and  filled   with  an  enthusi- 

the  best   guide  he  had  met  in  Europe  —  fully  and  asm  as  wise  and  discriminating  as  it  is  warm  and 

correctly  informed,  patient  and  clear  in  exposition,  contagious. 


The  Cathcdytxl  of  St.  Cittlibert — Durhani. 


1 1 1 


hot  with  money-making  fires,  black  with  art-destroying  cinders,  and 
deaf  to  the  voice  of  long-dead  years  ;  and  not  in  some  old  deserted 
Kenilworth  or  Fountains,  beautiful  only,  useful  no  longer,  a  monument 
of  death  and  destruction,  a  milestone  to  show  how  wide  a  space  may  lie 
between  the  currents  of  mediaeval  and  of  modern  life  —  not  there  do  we 
find  the  real  England  really  pictured  ;  but  here  in  this  Durham,  which 


DURHAM,   FROM   THE   RAILKUAU   S1AT10\. 


was  once  military  and  monastic  and  feudal,  and  is  now  commercial,  col- 
legiate, domestic,  and  in  politics  sometimes  Liberal,  yet  where  there  has 
been  neither  sudden  change  nor  any  forgetting,  and  little  abandonment 
or  loss — only  slow  natural  growth  and  development,  and  the  wear  and 
tear  and  partial  retrogressions  which  all  growth,  all  development  must 
involve.  Modern  life  standing  upon  ancient  life  as  on  a  worn  but  puis- 
sant and  respected  pedestal ;  learning  alive  despite  the  hurry  of  trade  ; 
religion  alive  despite  the  widening  of  the  moral  horizon  ;  Protestantism 
grown  from  Catholicism,  yet  not  harshly  dissevered  from  its  rituals  or 


1 1 2  Riiglisli  Catlicdrals. 

traditions  nor  scornful  of  its  artistic  legacy ;  things  monastic  sup- 
planted by  things  domestic  within  the  Church,  yet  the  Church  still  served 
with  reverence,  dignity  and  grace;  the  aristocrat,  the  soldier,  and 
the  prelate  still  keeping  some  shreds  of  civil  power  notwithstanding 
the  upgrowth  of  the  plebeian  layman's  power —  this  is  what  England 
means  to  those  who  see  her  land  and  her  living  as  a  whole.  This  and 
all  of  this  is  what  Durham  means  to  those  who  study  its  stones  and  its 
records  together.  And  all  this  is  typified  in  that  splendid  throne  of  its 
bishop-princes,  in  which  a  bishop  still  sits  but  a  prince  no  longer.  As 
this  throne  still  stands  in  use  and  honor,  so  the  old  order  of  things 
is  still  revered  in  the  lantl,  while  the  loss  of  the  color  and  eold  which 
once  adorned  it  may  seem  to  tell  of  the  gradual  perishing  away  of 
England's  old  artistic  gift,  and  the  mutilation  of  the  effigy  it  covers 
may  seem  to  speak  of  the  shorn  authority  of  that  class  which  once 
had  no  rivals  in  its  ruling, 

X 

It  is  hopeless  to  try  to  tell  which  are  the  best  points  for  seeing  Dur- 
ham from  a  distance — they  are  so  many,  and  each  in  turn  seems  so 
supremely  good.  Some  of  the  very  best,  moreover,  we  are  sure  to 
get,  as  from  the  railroad  station  which  lies  a  little  out  of  the  town 
to  the  northwest,  and  from  the  road  which  thence  brings  us  over  a 
great  bridge  near  the  castle. 

It  is  hopeless  also  to  try  to  describe  the  outward  view  which  may  be 
had  from  the  cathedral's  central  tower.  It  is  not  a  very  pleasant  task 
to  climb  to  the  top  of  any  such  old  construction.  Media:.'val  builders 
had  little  care  for  the  life  or  limbs  of  sight-seers ;  or  perhaps  medianal 
sight-seers  did  not  seek  for  views  as  we  do  to-day.  It  is  like  a  bad 
dream  to  clamber  up  this  tower  —  up  a  narrow  winding  staircase  to  the 
church's  roof,  and  then  up  a  still  narrower  and  steeper  and  darker  one 
to  the  roof  of  the  tower,  turning  about  on  exiguous  steps  uneven 
from  the  tread  of  centuries,  and  feeling  our  way  by  the  rough  convex 
stones.  But  it  is  like  another  sort  of  dream  to  come  out  at  last,  after 
more  than  three  hundred  painful  mountings,  upon  the  broad  parapeted 
platform  and  see  the  magnificent  wide  panorama  undulating  away  into 
the  hilly  distance  and  enlivened  beneath  the  church's  feet  by  the  silver 
twistings  of  the  Wear.  Standing  here  we  can  see  where  the  battle  of 
Neville's  Cross  was  fought;  and  here  the  monks  crowded  to  see  it,  in 
terror,  doubtless,  lest  defeat  might  mean  an  instant  siege  within  their 
home. 


Chapter    V 


THE    CATHEDRAL    OF    ST.   .MARY 


SALISBURY 


FTER  seeing  Peterborough  and  Durham  we 
may  best  go  southward  to  Salisbury,  where 
we  shall  find  an  explanation  of  that  Early 
English,  or  Lancet- Pointed,  style  which  suc- 
ceeded the  Norman. 

The  history  of  this  cathedral  church  is  un- 
matched in  England.  Its  foundations  were 
laid  upon  a  virgin  site  in  the  year  1220;  thirty- 
eight  years  later  it  stood  complete  to  the  top  of  the  first  stage  of  its 
tower;  and  time  respected  the  unity  thus  achieved — no  great  calam- 
ity brought  ruin  upon  any  part  of  the  structure,  and  no  new  needs 
provoked  its  alteration.  A  single  style  rules  it  from  end  to  end,  inside 
and  out,  from  foundation-course  to  roof-crest.  Only  the  spire  and  the 
upper  stages  of  the  tower  were  added  in  a  later  century,  and  to  most 
observers  even  these  look  of  a  piece  with  all  the  rest. 

It  was  by  means  of  an  act  of  transplantation,  however,  and  not  of 
new  creation,  that  its  thirteenth-century  builders  made  Salisbury  Cathe- 
dral all  their  own.  The  body  of  their  church  was  new  and  the  spot 
upon  which  it  stood,  but  in  name  and  soul  it  had  already  long  existed. 


About  the  year  705  the  great  diocese  of  Winchester  was  divided, 
and  its  western  portion  became  the  diocese  of  Sherborne.  In  the  tenth 
century  this  in  its  turn  was  cut  into  two  or  three,  one  being  called  of 
Ramsbury  or  Wiltshire.  At  the  time  of  the  Conquest  Bishop  Herman 
occupied  the  chairs  of  both  Ramsbury  and  Sherborne.  As  he  was  a 
foreigner  by  birth,  William  did  not  dispossess  him  ;  and  when  William's 
council  decreed  the  removal  of  isolated  rural  chairs  to  places  of  more 
8  "^ 


114  Unglish  Cathedrals. 

importance,  Herman  planted  his  at  Old  Saruiii,  and  the  names  of  the 
two  earlier  dioceses  were  lost  in  that  of  Salisbury. 

Old  Sarum  we  say  to-day,  when  spcaking^  of  the  site  of  Herman's 
cathedral,  and  Salisbury  when  speaking  of  the  place  where  the  new 
one  was  built  in  the  year  1220.  But  the  names  are  the  same,  one  be- 
ing the  mediaeval  Latin  and  the  otiicr  the  modern  luiglish  form  of 
the  earlier  English  Searobyrig  or  Sarisbyrig,  itself  derived  from  the 
Roman  Sorbiodunum. 

From  prehistoric  dajs  Old  Sarum  was  for  centuries  a  strong  and 
famous  place.  No  spot  in  all  England  is  of  more  curious  interest  now. 
Who  expects  in  this  crowded,  living  little  lantl  to  hear  of  a  city  wiped 
utterly  from  sight,  turned  into  such  a  "  heap  "  as  those  cities  of  the 
plain  whose  punishment  the  prophets  foretold  ?  Who  expects  to  see 
sheep  feeding  and  ploughshares  turning  where  there  were  once  not 
only  Roman  roads  and  ramparts  but  a  great  Norman  castle  and 
cathedral  ?     Yet  this,  and  nothing  but  this,  we  see  at  Old  Sarum. 

Its  broad,  desolate  hill  lies  isolated  in  a  valley  near  the  river  Avon,^ 
not  very  far  from  the  skirts  of  the  wide  table-land  called  Salisbury 
Plain.  Even  the  roadway  leaves  it  at  a  distance.  First  we  pass 
through  an  inn-garden,  then  cross  a  long  stretch  of  slightly  rising 
ground,  and  then  climb  successive  steep  and  rugged  though  grassy 
slopes.  These  show  in  scarcely  broken  lines  the  trend  of  the  ancient 
walls  and  fosses.  Their  main  portions  are  of  Roman  origin,  but,  if  we 
may  believe  tradition,  the  outermost  line  was  added  by  King  Alfred 
when  the  Danes  were  on  the  war-path.  Once  on  top  of  the  hill  we  hml 
it  a  broad,  rolling  plateau,  bearing  here  and  there  a  group  of  trees,  but 
nowhere  a  building,  and  only  in  two  places  any  relics  of  man's  handi- 
work—  two  shattered,  ragged  bits  of  wall.  Most  of  it  is  covered  with 
rough  grass,  very  different  from  the  fresh  turf  of  English  lowlands,  but 
far  off  to  the  westward  there  are  signs  of  agricultural  labor.  This  is 
where  the  great  cathedral  stood;  and  much  else  once  stood  where  now 
is  an  almost  Mesopotamian  solitude  —  all  the  adjuncts  of  a  cathedral, 
ecclesiastical  and  domestic;  all  the  parts  of  a  stronghold  which  was  a 
royal  residence  as  well ;  and  all  the  streets  and  structures  of  a  consid- 
erable city,  stretching  down  the  hill  and  out  into  the  valley.  Hence, 
as  from  an  important  centre,  once  radiated  six  Roman  roads.  Here 
Briton  and  Saxon  fought,  and  the  victors  held  their  parliaments,  and 
were  in  their  turn  assaulted  by  the  Dane.  Hither  were  summoned  all 
the  states  of  the  realm  to  do  homage  to  William  the  Norman,  and,  a 

1  This  is  not  Shakspere's  Avon,  but  another  of  the  name  which  flows  southward  to  the  Channel. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury.  1 1 5 

century  later,  all  its  great  men  to  pay  reverence  to  that  young  son  of 
Henry  I.  who  was  to  perish  in  the  wreck  of  the  White  Ship.  Here 
was  drawn  up  the  "Ordinal  of  Offices  for  the  Use  of  Sarum  "  which 
became  the  ritual  rule  for  the  whole  south  of  England.  Here,  in  a 
word,  for  several  centuries  and  under  the  dominion  of  five  successive 
races — British,  Roman,  English,  Norman,  and  again  in  the  new  sense 
English — was  a  great  centre  of  ecclesiastical  and  military  power.  To- 
day it  is  nothing  but  a  heap.  Citadel  and  lordly  keep,  royal  hall  and 
chapel,  cathedral,  chapter-house,  and  close,  convents,  parish  churches, 
municipal  buildings,  burghers'  homes  and  streets,  and  the  mighty  walls 
which  once  inclosed  them,  all  have  been  swept  away,  and  their  very 
stones  removed  for  use  in  distant  spots.  The  colossal  earthworks  which 
once  bore  the  walls  are  not  greatly  damaged  ;  the  little  village  of  Strat- 
ford-under-the-Castle  marks,  perhaps,  the  site  of  a  valley-suburb;  and 
the  two  forlorn  patches  of  wall  may  still  stand  for  generations.  But 
above  ground  nature  has  reclaimed  all  else  to  barren  unity.  Below 
ground  a  long  passage  is  known  to  exist,  though  its  entrance  has  been 
closed  for  a  century ;  and  in  1835  a  band  of  antiquaries  laid  bare  for  a 
moment  the  foundations  of  the  cathedral  church.  It  was  270  feet  in 
length,  and  had  two  western  towers  with  a  great  Galilee-porch  be- 
tween them  a  transept  and  aisles,  and  a  deep  choir  which,  as  was  usual 
in  later  English  but  not  in  Norman  days,  ended  in  a  flat  east  wall.  It 
was  consecrated  in  the  year  1092,  and  was  begun  by  Herman,  finished 
by  his  successor  Osmund,  a  companion  of  the  Conqueror,  and  much 
altered  and  enlarged  by  Roger,  the  warrior-bishop  of  King  Stephen's 
time.  It  seems  to  have  been  inclosed  by  the  fortifications  of  the  castle, 
and  in  this  fact  we  have  the  reason  for  its  eventual  abandonment. 

From  the  begfinnine  the  close  association  of  ecclesiastical  and  mili- 
tary  power  was  a  source  of  trouble.  At  Durham  the  bishop  had  been 
the  first  comer  and  was  indisputable  head  of  the  community,  and  the 
might  of  the  sword  always  assisted  the  might  of  the  staff.  But  the 
Bishop  of  Sherborne  and  Ramsbury  came  to  Sarum,  so  to  say,  as 
the  guest  and  dependent  of  its  military  chief  Some  of  his  successors 
united  both  titles,  as  was  the  case  with  the  bloody  and  potent  Roger. 
But  from  Roger's  day  onward  church  and  castle  were  at  feud,  and  the 
burghers  of  Sarum,  who  were  tenants  in  part  of  the  one  and  in  part  of 
the  other,  fed  and  fanned  the  discord.  Municipal  disputes  were  then 
not  settled  bywords.  Hand-to-hand  struggles  were  frequent  in  Sarum, 
and  naturally  the  priests  did  not  often  have  the  best  of  the  matter.  In 
the  reign  of  Richard  I.,  for  instance,  "such  was  the  hot  entertainment 


ii6 


English  Cathedrals. 


THE  SPIRE  OF  SALISBURY. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury.  1 1 7 

on  each  part"  over  certain  disputed  boundaries  "  that  at  last  the  Cas- 
tellanes,  espieing  their  time,  gate  between  the  cleargie  and  the  towne 
and  so  coiled  them  as  they  returned  homeward  that  they  feared  any 
more  to  gang  about  their  bounds  for  the  year."  Moreover,  the  cathe- 
dral establishment  was  sadly  cramped  for  space;  the  town  "wanted 
water  so  unreasonably  as  (a  strange  kind  of  merchandise)  it  was  there 
to  be  sold";  the  hill  was  cold  and  cheerless,  and  the  wind  blew  over 
the  lifted  church  so  that  often  "the  people  could  not  hear  the  priests 
say  mass."  And  then,  on  general  principles,  "What,"  as  one  of  its 
canons  exclaimed,  "  has  the  house  of  the  Lord  to  do  with  castles  ?  It 
is  the  ark  of  the  covenant  in  a  temple  of  Baalim.  Let  us  in  God's 
name,"  he  added,  "descend  into  the  level.  There  are  rich  champaigns 
and  fertile  valleys  abounding  in  the  fruits  of  the  earth  and  profusely 
watered  by  living  streams.  There  is  a  seat  for  the  Virgin  patroness 
of  our  Church  to  which  the  whole  world  cannot  afford  a  parallel." 
Times  had  changed  since  that  distraught  eleventh  century  when  such 
spots  as  Durham  and  Sarum  had  seemed  the  best  for  churchmen's 
homes.  What  they  wanted  now  was  not  convenience  of  defense  but 
freedom  of  access,  and  the  chance  to  live  well  as  anywhere  they 
could  live  in  safety.  So,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  III.  and  the  bishopric 
of  Richard  Poore,  the  first  stones  of  a  new  cathedral  were  laid  in  the 
valley.^  As  it  stood  more  than  a  mile  away  from  the  old  one,  we  can 
perhaps  as  readily  believe  that  the  Virgin  showed  the  spot  to  the 
bishop  in  a  dream  as  that  he  marked  it  by  an  arrow  shot  from  the 
ramparts  of  Old  Sarum. 

With  the  ecclesiastics  went  most  of  the  burghers  of  the  hill-town. 
At  once  its  importance  departed  and,  more  slowly  but  as  utterly,  its 
very  life.  The  stages  of  its  decline  cannot  be  traced  with  surety. 
But  the  mere  fact  that  after  the  time  of  Bishop  Poore  history  refers  to 
it  very  seldom  and  as  though  by  chance,  proves  how  quickly  it  died. 
A  writer  who  visited  it  in  1540  says  that  not  a  house  then  remained, 
that  the  castle  was  a  heap  of  "notable  ruinous  building,"  and  that  in 
a  chapel  dedicated  to  Our  Lady  burned  the  only  lights  which  proved 
man's  presence.  Yet  nominally  Old  Sarum  existed  as  a  town  until 
the  year  1831.  Until  then  two  so-called  representatives  of  its  chimeri- 
cal inhabitants  sat  in  the  Parliament  of  England. 

As  it  gradually  dwindled,  the  new  city  of  the  priests  waxed  and 
grew,   absorbing  its  life-blood,  stealing  away  the  stones  of  its  body. 

1  This  is  the  same  Richard  Poore  who,  a  little  later,  as  Bishop  of  Durham,  founded  the 
Chapel  of  the  Nine  .\ltars. 

8* 


1 1 8  English  Cathedrals. 

Peace  dwelt  within  the  borders  of  New  Sariini,  and  the  only  ram- 
parts it  needed  were  the  low  walls  which  still  fence  in  its  close — signs 
not  of  anticipated  conflict,  but  merely  of  the  Church's  separation  from 
the  world. 


n 

Apart  from  its  great  central  feature,  modern  Salisbury  is  not  an 
interesting  town.  The  main  streets  are  commonplace,  though  in  out- 
of-the-way  corners  we  find  picturesque  bits  of  domestic  work  and  a 
Perpendicular  church  or  two ;  and  while  the  chief  square  is  spacious, 
it  has  scarcely  more  architectural  dignity  than  that  of  some  New  Eng- 
land city  of  the  second  rank.  But  doubtless  it  was  once  more  interest- 
ing; the  scene-painter  bids  us  think  so  when  "  Richard  III."  is  being 
played,  and  the  time  comes  for  Buckingham's  execution.  And  beyond 
the  suburbs,  out  in  the  valley  of  the  Avon,  the  England  of  to-day  is  as 
lovely  as  ever,  and  from  here  the  town  seems  a  pretty  enough  base  for 
the  splendid  spire  which  soars  above  it.  All  possible  adjectives  of  de- 
scription and  nouns  of  comparison  have  been  worn  threadbare  in  the 
attempt  to  paint  this  spire.  But  no  words  can  do  the  work.  To  call  it 
a  titanic  arrow  weakly  pictures  the  way  it  lifts  itself,  .seemingly  not 
toward  but  into  the  blue  of  heaven.  To  liken  it  to  the  spear  of  an 
angel  does  not  figure  the  strength  which  dwells  in  its  buoyant  outline. 
We  may  speak  of  it  for  the  thousandth  time  as  a  silent  finger  of  faith 
pointing  to  the  home  of  the  faithful,  and  not  hint  at  the  significance  it 
wears  to  the  imaginative  eye,  or  may  cite  with  emphasis  the  four  hun- 
dred feet  it  measures  and  not  explain  the  paramount  place  it  holds  in 
the  landscape — how  it  is  always  the  centre  and  finish  of  every  scene, 
whether  we  stand  far  away  or  near  ;  how  it  persists  in  our  consciousness 
even  when  our  backs  are  turned,  or  when  the  blackness  of  night  shuts 
it  out  from  corporeal  vision.  Standing  just  beneath  it,  we  cannot  but 
keep  our  eyes  perpetually  lifted  to  its  aerial  summit,  to  mark  how  the 
clouds  appear  to  be  at  rest  and  it  appears  to  move,  like  a  gigantic 
lovely  dial-hand  actually  showing  us  for  once  the  invisible  revolution 
of  the  globe.  When  we  are  far  away,  on  the  desolate  levels  of  Salis- 
bury Plain,  we  see  its  isolated  slender  stateliness  for  miles  after  town 
and  church  have  vanished  beneath  the  plateau's  edge;  and  when  it  also 
disappears  it  still  seems  to  be  watching  us;  it  is  still  the  one  thing  with 
which  imagination  takes  account  until  we  are  finally  in  presence  of  that 
huc^e  circle  at  Stonehenge,  in  comparison  with  whose  age  Salisbury's 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury. 


119 


spire  is  modern.  The  whole  of  architectural  progress  lies  between  the 
forms  of  these  two  famous  monuments.  Here  are  rough  uncouth  mono- 
liths, raised  by  brute  strength  and  standing  by  the  force  of  mere  inertia 

there,  delicately  chiseled  blocks  piled  in  myriads  one  upon  another 

to  a  dizzy  height,  the  utmost  science  and  the  subtilest  art  creating  and 
maintaining  them.      Here  is  the  impressiveness  of  matter  subdued  by 


%0^,__ 

THE  CATHEDRAL,    FROM   THE   BISHOP'S   GARDEN. 


mind  into  positions  full  once  of  a  meaning  that  now  is  lost,  but  not 
subdued  into  the  remotest  semblance  of  grace  or  beauty.  There,  a 
strength  infinitely  greater  is  combined  with  the  last  word  of  grace 
and  beauty,  and  expresses  meanings,  faiths,  emotions  which  are  still 
those  of  our  own  world.  Yet  there  is  no  undecipherable  stage  in  the 
long  sequence  which  lies  between.  The  steps  are  close  and  clear  — 
not,  indeed,  in  England,  but  in  other  lands  that  we  know  as  well — 
which  lead  from  men  who  were  content  to  set  two  great  stones  over 
against  each  other,  lay  a  third  on  top,  and  call  them  a  temple,  to  men 
who  caressed  their  stones  into  exquisite  forms  and  surfaces,  raised  them 


I20  English  Cathedrals. 

in  complicated  harmonies  of  outline,  and  crowned  them  with  pinnacles 
—  as  light  as  air,  as  strong  as  iron  —  which  all  but  touched  the  clouds. 

It  is  interesting,  too,  to  remember  that,  new  as  Salisbury  seems 
when  compared  with  Stonehenge,  the  one  can  boast  no  earlier  name 
than  the  other.  The  Druids  may  very  well  have  built  Stonehenge, 
but  the  barbarians  whom  the  Druids  ruled  must  have  camped  before 
the  Romans  on  the  hill  of  Sarum.  Perhaps  from  this  same  spot,  in- 
deed, went  forth  the  constructors  of  the  undated  temple  as  well  as 
those  of  the  thirteenth-century  church. 

One  can  easily  understand  how  attractive  their  new  site  must  have 
seemed  to  the  emigrating  priests — low  and  level,  warm  and  fertile,  and 
close  to  the  silver  Avon's  banks.  But  its  tempting  unlikeness  to  their 
old  position  brought  them  new  discomforts.  The  land  lay  so  low  as  to 
be  almost  swampy,  and  the  river  ran  so  close  that  in  times  of  flood  it 
ran  into  the  church:  an  even  worse  visitor  than  the  wind  of  the  hill-city, 
as  it  could  enforce  the  discontinuance  of  services  for  days  together. 
Even  until  comparatively  recent  years  local  grumblers  called  the  cathe- 
dral close  the  sink  of  the  city,  and  the  palace  the  sink  of  the  close. 
But  no  hint  of  such  discomforts  appears  to  the  eye.  The  close  is 
simply  one  of  the  greenest,  freshest,  and  sweetest  of  earthly  spots;  and 
outside  of  fairy-land  there  can  be  nothing  lovelier  than  the  palace  and 
its  gardens,  except  the  garden  and  palace  at  Wells.  If  Durham  seems 
the  petrified  interpretation  of  the  Church  Militant,  Salisbury  is  the  very 
type  and  picture  of  the  Church  of  the  Prince  of  Peace.  Nowhere  else 
does  a  work  of  Christian  architecture  so  express  purity  and  repose  and 
the  beauty  of  holiness,  while  the  green  pastures  which  surround  it  might 
well  be  those  of  which  the  psalmist  wrote.  When  the  sun  shines  on  the 
pale  gray  stones,  the  level  grass  and  the  silent  trees,  and  throws  the  long 
shadow  of  the  spire  across  them,  it  is  as  though  a  choir  of  seraphs  sang 
in  benediction  of  that  peace  of  God  which  passeth  understanding.  The 
men  who  built  and  planted  here  were  sick  of  the  temples  of  Baalim,  tired 
of  being  cribbed  and  cabined,  weary  of  quarrelsome  winds  and  voices. 
They  wanted  space  and  sun  and  stillness,  comfort  and  rest  and  beauty, 
and  the  quiet  ownership  of  their  own;  and  no  men  ever  more  perfectly 
expressed,  for  future  times  to  read,  the  ideal  that  they  had  in  mind. 

The  cathedral  stands  upon  a  great  unbroken,  absolutely  level  lawn 
which  sweeps  around  it  to  west  and  north  and  east,  while  close  beyond 
it  to  the  south  rise  the  trees  of  the  episcopal  garden.  Cloisters  and 
chapter-house  lie  also  to  the  south,  and  upon  the  other  sides  nothing  is 
visible  except  the  lawn  itself  the  magnificent  trees  which  circle  at  a 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary — Salisbury.  121 


c 


> 


c 

> 


o 
g 


o 

H 

X 

> 


1  2  2 


English  Caflicdrals. 


distance,  the  low  wall  of  the  close,  and  beyond  this  the  rows  of  the 
canons'  vine-wreathed  homes.  The  chief  approach  is  through  a  gate- 
way at  the  northeast  angle  of  the  close,  whence  a  path  leads  to  the 
main  door  in  the  north  side  of  the  nave.  Approaching  thus,  we  see 
the  whole  church  standing  free  and  see  it  at  its  very  best.  For,  as  is 
often  the  case  in  England,  the  west  front  is  the  least  beautiful  part  of 
the  structure. 

Ill 

As  this  chances  to  be  the  onl\-  liomogeneous  cathedral  church  in 
England,  we  may  be  very  glad  that  it  was  built  in  ihr  earlier  years  of 
the  thirteenth  century.     When  the  corner-stone  of  its  choir  was  laid  the 


■ft  ^   f,.-? 


CTTJ' 


1^^ 


NORTHKASl    (iATKWAY  T(5  THE  CLOSE. 


Early  Englisli,  or  Lancet-Pointed,  style  had  just  thrown  off  the  last  trace 
of  Norman  chisels,  and  when  its  west  front  was  finished  this  style  was 
just  beginning  to  develop  certain  ornamental  motives  which  became 
characteristic  of  the  Decorated  period.  If  Salisbury  had  been  built  with 
the  e.xpress  desire  to  show  what,  in  its  simplest  form,  the  Early  English 
style  implied,  its  witness  could  not  be  fuller  or  more  precise.  And  this 
style  is  more  truly  national  than  either  the  Norman  which  preceded  or 
the  Decorated  which  followed  it,  although  not  so  wholly,  thoroughly 
national  as  the  Perpendicular  style  which  finished  the  long  course  of 
mediaeval  art. 

The  plan  is  the  ideal  plan  of  a  great  English  church,  free  alike  from 
Norman  ami  from  contemporary  foreign  influence.     The  great  length 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbttry. 


123 


of  nave  and  choir  (480  feet)  and  their  relative  narrowness,  the  two 
transepts  each  with  only  one  aisle,  the  shallow  buttressing,  the  square 
terminations  of  all  the  six  limbs  and  of  the  lower  eastern  Lady-chapel 
— all  these  are  characteristically  English  features.  And  just  as  Eng- 
lish are  all  the  features  of  the  great  body  raised  upon  this  plan  —  the 
tall  narrow  lancet- windows,  the  dominant  central  tower,  the  compara- 
tive lowness  of  the  walls,  the  paucity  of 
flying-buttresses,  the  elaborateness  of 
the  mouldings  and  the  absence  of  orna- 
mental sculpture,  the  low  pitch  of  the 
roofs  and,  alas,  the  mistaken  design  of 
the  western  front. 

The  beauty  of  Salisbury  results  from 
the  composition  of  its  immense  and  va- 
ried body — from  the  harmonious  contrast- 
ing of  its  square  masses  and  simple  hori- 
zontal and  vertical  lines.  We  must  put 
French  Gothic  types  quite  out  of  mind 
if  we  would  appreciate  it.  We  must  not 
ask  for  imposing  grandeur  or  for  lines 
which  everywhere  conspicuously  aspire. 
We  must  not  demand  a  full  expression 
of  that  Gothic  constructional  ideal  which 
meant  "an  intelligent  combination  of 
pressures  always  in  action,  and  referring 
themselves  to  certain  points  of  support 
disposed  to  receive  them  and  transmit 
them  to  the  ground."  We  must  not  look 
for  decoration  that  charms  the  eye  and 
excites  the  imaeination.     And  we  must 


PLAN   OF   SALISBURY  CATHEDRAL! 
FROM  Murray's  "handbook." 


not      even     expect     to     see     a     composition        a.  Nave.    B.  C,  Main  Transept.    D,  Cholr.    F,  J, 

h.    1  .  /•  •  1  Minor  or  Eastern   Transept.    G,  Retrochoir.    i, 

ICh,      it      counting     many     parts,      results  NorthPorch.    13,  Ladychapel.    24,Entranceto 

Cloisters, 

in   a   great  entity  like   Notre   Dame  or 

Amiens.  If  our  eyes  have  been  trained  abroad,  Salisbury  may  look 
more  like  an  aggregate  of  related  buildings  than  like  a  typical  church. 
Then  it  is  so  low  and  solid  and,  but  for  its  spire,  so  lacking  in  verti- 
cal emphasis,  that,  notwithstanding  its  pointed  windows,  it  expresses 

1  The  external  length   of   Salisbuiy  Cathedral  is      chapter-house   is   58  feet   in    diameter   .and   53   feet 
480  feet  and  the  internal  length  450  feet ;   the  tran-      high  ;    and  the  cloister  is   182  feet  square, 
sept  is  230  feet  long  outside  and  206  feet  inside ;  the 


124 


Riiglisli   Cathedrals. 


rather  a  Romanesque  than  a  truly  Gothic  ideal.  And  when  its  con- 
struction is  examined  we  see  indeed  that  the  true  Gothic  ideal  did  not 
direct  its  builders.  But  take  it  for  what  it  is  and  we  think  it  beautiful 
indeed.  Nothing  could  be  more  charmingly  proportioned  and  arranged 
than  its  rectangular  masses  of  different  heights  and  sizes,  or  more 
telling  than  the  broad  effects  of  light  and  shadow  which  they  produce ; 
nothing  could  be  more  appropriate  to  the  altitude  of  the  walls  than 
the  slope  of  the  roofs,  or  more  gracefully  shaped  and  disposed  than 
the  wintlows.  Those  in  the  main  stor)-,  like  the  capitals  of  the  shafts 
which  llank  them,  are  merely  moulded.  In  the  upper  stories  traceries 
are  employed,  but  sparingly  and  in  simple  patterns.  The  few  flying- 
buttresses  add  an  accent   of  combined   lightness   and   strength.      The 

cornice  is  an  inconspicuous  line  of  arcad- 
,,.  ,„,  ing  ;  and  the  lower  walls  are  relieved  by 

boldly  projecting  water-tables.  The  whole 
effect  is  strictly  architectural.  No  other 
media;val  cathedral  is  so  entire))-  devoid 
of  sculptured  decoration.  This  fact  alone 
would  deprive  it  of  the  right  to  be  called 
a  typical  mediaeval  church ;  yet  it  gives 
it  special  interest  as  an  example  of  the 
beauty  which  mediaeval  architects  could 
compass  even  when  depending  solely  upon 
themselves. 

In  the  lowness  of  the  wide-spreading 
structure  we  find  the  cause  of  the  superb 
impressiveness  of  central  tower  and  spire. 
Tall  though  the  spire  of  Salisbury  is,  two 
or  three  others  surpass  it.  At  Amiens, 
for  instance,  the  fleclie  above  the  crossing 
rises  22  feet  higher  than  Salisbury's  apex. 
But  at  Salisbury  the  roof-ridge  lies  very 
near  to  the  vaulted  ceiling,  and  this  is  only  84  feet  high,  while  at  Amiens 
the  roof-ridge  is  208  feet  above  the  ground.*  So,  as  compared  with  Salis- 
bury's, the  spire  of  Amiens  makes  the  effect  of  a  spirelet  only.  Yet  the 
enormous  spring  of  the  Salisbury  steeple  does  not  crush  or  overwhelm 
the  church,  thanks  to  those  wide-spreading  limbs  which  on  all  four  sides 
sustain  its  far  vertical  lines.  In  fact,  no  better  church  than  Salisbury 
could  be  fancied  as  a  base  for  one  of  the  greatest  spires  in  the  world. 

1  I  have  not  been  able  to  discover  the  exact  height  of  the  external  roof  at  Salisbury. 


'  "^^'^^s^^S'V'^'"^"^- 


EXTERIOR  OF  TRIFORIUM-WINDOW, 
NORTH   ARM   OK  TRANSEPT. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury. 


125 


Its  successive  portions  so  build  themselves  up  toward  the  centre  that 
we  feel  it  would  be  incomplete  did  a  less  imposing  pinnacle  surmount  it. 
The  beauty  of  this  church  is  the  beauty  of  grace,  not  of  power.  It 
is  the  least  masculine-looking  of  English  cathedrals.  Yet  no  one  should 
call  it  feeble  or  effeminate;  it  is  feminine,  but  feminine  like  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  gods,  divinely  tall  and  most  divinely  fair.  Were  the  same 
scheme  repeated  in  a  smaller  way  it  might  degenerate  into  pettiness 
or  prettiness.  But  scale  in  architecture  plays  a  very  vital  part  in 
determining  the  impression  pro- 
duced, and  just  as  important  a 
part  in  determining  the  real  ex- 
cellence of  a  design.  The  enor- 
mous size  of  Salisbury  gives  its 
design  a  force,  dignity,  and  nobil- 
ity which  cannot  be  at  all  appre- 
ciated from  a  picture.  If  when 
we  see  it  we  do  not  receive  a 
powerful  impression,  this  will  be 
because  we  need  what  the  French 
call  emphase  to  make  strength 
and  majesty  apparent.  There  is 
no  strong  emphasis  about  Salis- 
bury.     It   is   not  only  the   most 

simply  treated  of  Gothic  cathedrals  ;  it  is  also  the  most  reposeful  and 
idyllic.  No  other  is  more  individual;  its  union  of  vast  size  with  simpli- 
city and  feminine  loveliness  sets  it  apart  from  every  other  church  in  the 
world.  It  expresses  a  very  different  phase  of  mediaeval  art  from  those 
we  find  expressed  in  France,  or  in  such  rich  yet  masculine  buildings 
as  Canterbury  and  Lincoln.  But  it  voices  its  own  ideal  with  perfect 
fullness  and  clearness,  and  this  was  not  the  conception  of  any  cleverly 
eccentric  individual,  but  the  general  ideal  of  English  art  in  the  first  half 
of  the  thirteenth  century.  Thus  Salisbury,  though  not  in  the  widest 
sense  a  typical  mediaeval  church,  has  yet  a  typical  national  interest. 
It  is  par  excellence  the  characteristic  church  of  England,  for  there  is  no 
complete  large  church  in  the  Perpendicular  style.  And  its  architectural 
significance  is  enhanced,  of  course,  by  the  ultra-English  nature  of  its 
site,  and  the  perfect  according  of  site  and  structure.  Put  Salisbury  on 
a  "  tall  mountain  citied  to  the  top  "  like  Lincoln's,  or  in  the  centre  of  a 
close-built  Continental  town,  and  it  would  look  out  of  place,  weak,  in- 
effective, and  undignified.     But  what  Continental  cathedral,  what  other 


fe^'i^^^^^^^P^^ 


INTERIOR   OF   CLEARSTORY-WINDOW, 
NORTH   ARM   OF  TRANSEPT. 


126  E)iglish  Cathcdmls. 

English  cathedral  even,  would  look  so  well  in  this  wide  green  solitude, 
separate,  quiet,  and  dreamful  amid  velvet  acres  and  thick  swaying  elms? 
Imagination  can  hardly  dissever  it  from  its  environment;  it  seems  to 
have  grown  as  naturally  from  the  grass  as  the  elms  themselves. 


IV 

When  we  are  praising  Salisbury,  however,  the  west  front  must  be 
left  out  of  mind. 

The  facades  of  England  offer  a  singular  subject  for  study.  I  have 
said  that  as  churches  grew  tall  and  broad  in  Prance  the  central  tower 
disappeared  and  the  west  front  profited  by  the  fact.  The  western 
towers  became  of  chief  importance,  and  their  combination  with  the  tall 
middle  field  of  wall  and  with  the  principal  doorways  resulted  in  designs 
of  extraordinary  force  and  splendor.  In  England,  where  the  body  of  the 
church  remained  low  and  narrow  and  the  central  tower  was  retained, 
no  such  magnificence  of  fagade  was  logically  possible.  But  English- 
men did  not  do  even  as  well  as  they  might  have  done  with  their  west 
fronts.  Often  they  pauperized  them  still  further  by  removing  the  chief 
entrance  somewhere  else  ;  and  often,  on  the  other  hand,  they  tried  to 
ape  foreign  grandeur  by  illogical  mendacious  expedients.  At  Salis- 
bury, for  instance,  three  doors  exist  in  the  facade;  but  they  are  so 
much  too  small  for  their  places  that  it  hardly  needs  the  corroborating 
witness  of  the  great  porch  on  the  north  side  of  the  church  to  make 
them  seem  a  mere  concession  to  precedent  or  to  French  example. 
And  then  above  them  the  wall  rises  almost  as  high  in  front  of  the  low 
aisles  as  in  front  of  the  taller  nave,  standing  free  as  a  useless  screen 
crossed  by  rows  of  simulated  windows.  The  whole  structure  is  a  false- 
hood as  plainly  as  the  Peterborough  portico,  though  in  a  very  different 
and  a  much  less  splendid  way.  It  is  a  mask  designed  to  make  the 
church  look  greatly  larger  than  it  is.  When  seen  directly  in  front  it 
accomplishes  this  aim;  but,  of  course,  from  every  other  point  of  view  the 
cheat  is  apparent.  Strictly  judged,  for  the  underlying  constructional 
idea,  this  facade  has  no  greater  merit  than  a  thing  we  may  find  in  any 
small  American  town  —  a  house-front  a  couple  of  stories  high  sur- 
mounted by  another  story  or  two  of  blank  wall  behind  which,  if  we 
stand  a  litde  to  one  side,  we  see  the  roof  sloping  away.  Surely  they 
were  a  singular  race,  these  English  architects;  now,  as  in  Salisbury's 
spire  and  the  Nine  Altars  at  Durham,  designing  like  angels,  and  again, 
as  in   the  front  of  Salisbury,  like  children  who  have  been  impressed 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury. 


127 


by  a  certain  object  but  have  not  realized  to  what  factors  its  impressive- 
ness  was  due. 

Nothing  can  please  us  in  this  fa9ade  except  its  details.  Even  apart 
from  its  fundamental  untruthfulness  it  has  no  merit  as  a  composition. 
The  lateral  divisions  are  too  wide  for  the  central  one,  and  the  great 
triple  window  is  too  large  for  its  place;  the  cornices  are  deplorably 
weak,  and  the  rows  of  blank  windows  are  a  cheap  device  to  give  the 
wall  a  semblance  of  utility.  It  is  less  a  composition  in  the  true  sense 
than  a  mechanical  assemblage  of  unconnected   features.     But  it  must 


^:^>^ 


THE  CLOSE  AND  A   PART   OF  THE   WEST   FRONT. 

have  had  great  decorative  charm  when  it  stood  intact.  It  was  very 
rich  as  compared  with  the  great  plainness  of  the  rest  of  the  church,  and 
was  peopled  by  a  multitude  of  statues.  Time  and  the  Reformation, 
however,  made  away  with  these,  and  the  modern  ones  which  now  stand 
in  their  places  can  hardly  be  called  works  of  art. 

It  is  delightful  to  turn  from  such  a  front  to  the  tower  and  spire  which 
call  for  unstinted  praise.  The  upper  parts  are  just  a  century  later  than 
the  lower,  and  belong  to  the  Decorated  period.  But  there  is  a  general 
agreement  in  the  design  of  the  windows,  and  the  richer  aspect  of  the 
new  work  harmonizes  well  with  the  simplicity  below.    The  tower  groups 


•'*i 


128  English  Cathedrals. 

and  assorts  with  the  body  of  the  church  as  a  full-blown  rose  groups  and 
assorts  with  buds ;  it  seems  the  same  idea  brought  to  more  luxuriant 
development.  But  not  merely  size,  or  appropriateness  to  the  substruc- 
ture, makes  this  steeple  famous.  No  other  in  the  world,  I  think,  joins 
such  noble  proportions  to  so  aspiring  an  expression,  so  graceful  an  out- 
line, and  so  felicitous  an  arrangement  of  features  and  of  decorative 
details.  Even  the  earlier  of  the  two  spires  at  Chartres  seems  heavy 
in  comparison,  while  the  greater  elaboration  of  the  later  one  and  of 
the  Strasburg  steeple  is  purchased  by  a  loss  of  purity  in  outline  and 
of  buoyancy  in  spring.  Still  less  pure  and  spire-like  are  very  late 
spires  like  those  of  Antwerp  and  Mechlin,  which  hardly  possess  a  sil- 
houette deserving  of  the  name.  .\ntl  if  tlie  open  lacework  of  P'rey- 
burg's  tall  pinnacle  has  a  greater  picturesqueness,  we  may  still  prefer 
the  solid,  pure  and  noble  slightness  of  the  great  English  example, 
while  it  alone,  among  mighty  spires,  is  the  central  feature  of  a  church 
which  looks  as  though  it  might  have  been  erected  especially  for  its 
support. 

But  this  splendid  piece  of  work  was  not  completed  without  some  sin- 
ning against  constructional  good  sense.  It  is  supposed  that  the  thir- 
teenth-century builders  meant  to  carry  their  tower  much  higher  than 
the  single  stage  which  they  accomplished  ;  but  their  foundation.s,  set  on 
spongy  soil,  showed  signs  of  weakness,  and  the  recent  fall  of  the  great 
neighboring  tower  at  Winchester  warned  against  temerity.  Strong 
abutments  had  to  be  added  in  the  upper  stages  of  the  church  before 
the  fourteenth-century  architect  could  complete  the  tower  and  erect 
the  spire.  In  itself  the  latter  is  very  daringly  yet  scientificall)  con- 
structed. To  a  height  of  twenty  feet  its  walls  are  two  feet  thick,  but 
above  that  they  are  only  nine  inches  thick,  while  the  scaffoldings  on 
which  the  masons  stood  were  allowed  to  remain  within  them,  hung  to 
the  capstone  by  iron  rods,  and  serving  by  their  cross-bars  to  brace 
the  fabric.  Even  thus,  however,  the  soil  refused  to  bear  the  enormous 
load  with  steadiness,  and  in  the  fifteenth  century  great  braces  were  in- 
serted between  the  four  supporting  piers  inside  the  church  to  prevent 
them  from  bulging  outward  to  their  fall.  The  point  of  the  spire  is 
now  twenty-three  inches  out  of  the  perpendicular,  but  the  fact  is 
scarcely  perceptible ;  and  though  signs  of  settlement  show  much 
more  plainly  within  the  church,  they  have  not  increased  for  centuries, 
while  modern  skill  has  done  its  best  to  guard  against  further  move- 
ment. Whatever  the  thirteenth-century  designers  had  in  mind,  it  was 
surely  no  such  giant  pinnacle  of  stone  as  this;  yet,  as  the  event  has 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury.  1 29 

proved,  their  successors  were  not  altogether  too  daring ;  and  who  can 
regret  that  they  dared  as  they  did  ? 


The  interior  of  Salisbury  is  much  less  satisfying  than  the  exterior. 
Few  churches  in  England  seem  colder  and  barer,  for  it  was  greatly 
injured  during  the  Reformation,  and  again  by  Wyatt  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  We  may  possibly  forgive  this  licensed  vandal  for  having 
rearranged  many  surviving  monuments  after  a  scheme  of  his  own, 
placing  them  upon  a  low  plinth  which  runs  between  the  columns  of  the 
nave-arcade ;  for,  although  their  historic  interest  is  thus  largely  de- 
stroyed, the  general  effect  they  make  is  not  bad.  But  how  can  we 
forgive  him  for  shattering  the  ancient  glass,  and  throwing  it  "by  cart- 
loads into  a  ditch, "so  that  now  only  two  or  three  windows  are  filled  with 
a  patchwork  of  fragments,  and  the  church  is  lighted  by  a  hard  white 
glare  ?  In  the  choir  and  the  terminal  Lady-chapel  there  are  many 
more  tombs,  ancient  and  modern,  large  and  small,  simple  and  elabor- 
ate. Among  them  is  one  supposed  to  commemorate  Bishop  Roger 
and  to  have  been  brought  from  Old  Sarum,  and  another  in  which  lies 
a  woman  whom  a  poet's  lines,  more  imperishable  than  brass  or  stone, 
have  made  forever  famous  —  "Sidney's    sister,    Pembroke's    mother." 

The  great  old  choir-screen  has  been  removed,  as  in  so  many  other 
English  churches,  and  the  eye  now  passes  without  hindrance  from  one 
end  of  the  long  perspective  to  the  other.  Or,  more  exactly,  it  would 
thus  pass  but  for  the  huge  braces  which  were  built  in  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury between  the  piers  that  support  the  tower.  Each  is  formed  by  a 
strong  low  arch  surmounted  by  a  straight  beamlike  piece  of  wall.^ 
The  four  great  openings  are  thus  divided,  so  to  say,  into  two  open 
stories,  and  the  Perpendicular  decoration  on  the  lower  story  strikes  the 
only  note  of  discord  in  the  vast  architectural  unity  of  the  church.  The 
device  was  clever ;  but  it  takes  all  the  remembered  beauty  of  the  spire 
to  reconcile  us  to  the  need  for  its  adoption. 

But  even  if  Salisbury's  interior  could  be  seen  in  its  original  estate  it 
would  not  satisfy  an  eye  acquainted  with  other  great  churches  of  its 
time.  This  I  can  best  explain  by  saying  that  it  is  contemporary  with 
Amiens,  and  pointing  to  our  drawings  of  one  bay  in  the  nave  of  each. - 

1  Similar  braces,  I  may  note,  prescribed  by  a  sim-  most  conspicuous  point  of  difference  between  the 
ilar  necessity,  exist  beneath  the  tower  at  Canterbury.  two  interiors.     The  highest  point  of  the  ceihng  of 

2  These   two   drawings   are    not  upon  the  same  Amiens  is  142  feet  above  the  floor,  and  the  highest 
scale,  and  therefore  at  first  sight  do  not  show   the  point  of  the  ceiling  of  Salisbury  is  only  84. 


I30 


Eng/is/i  Cathedrals. 


Even  if  we  do  not  compare  proportions,  Ijut  accept  the  English  type  of 
church  as  an  individual  type  entitled  to  be  appraised  by  a  special  aes- 
thetic standard,  even  if  we  grant  that  length  and  lowness  may  be  beau- 
tiful as  well  as  height  and  breadth, —  even  so  there  can  be  no  question 
with  regard  to  the  inferiority  of  the  Salisbury  scheme.  Whatever  its 
proportions,  we  must  judge  a  Gothic  building  by  Gothic  canons.  We 
must  ask  how  it  is  constructed,  and  whether  its  features  are  so  ima- 
gined and  disposed  as  to  express  that  great  underlying  architectural 

idea  which  differentiates  Gothic  from 
Romanesque  art.  A  Romanesque 
church,  let  me  say  once  more,  is  com- 
posed of  solid  walls  and  a  solid  roof, 
all  parts  contributing  their  share  to- 
ward the  stability  of  the  whole;  and 
so  it  stands  by  virtue  of  mere  inertia. 
A  Gothic  church  is  an  organic  frame- 
work of  active  members  upon  which 
all  the  weight  is  concentrated  while 
the  connecting  portions  merely  play 
the  part  of  inclosing  .screens.  Every- 
thing but  the  piers  with  their  vaulting- 
shafts,  the  main  arches,  the  buttresses, 
and  the  vaulting-ribs  might  be  torn 
out  of  a  perfect  Gothic  church  and  the 
church  in  its  constructional  essence 
would  still  exist  —  in  its  fundamentals 
the  architect's  conception  would  be 
intact.  Look  at  the  drawing  of  one 
bay  of  Amiens,  and  you  will  see  why. 
Look  at  one  bay  of  Salisbury,  and 
\'ou  will  feel  that  here  the  Roman- 
esque constructional  ideal  still  largely 
persists.  Take  away  the  curtain  of  wall  between  the  arches  of  this 
pier-arcade,  or  between  those  of  this  triforium-story,  and  everything 
that  is  above  them  would  fall.  There  are  no  great  vaulting-shafts  ris- 
ing from  the  floor  and,  aided  by  strong  external  buttresses,  competent 
to  sustain  the  ceiling;  the  vaults  rest  on  corbels  in  the  triforium-stage 
and  are  largely  supported  by  the  wall.  Stone  beams,  playing  the  part 
of  small  flying-buttresses,  do  indeed  span  the  triforium-gallery,  rest  on 
the  shallow  external  buttress-strips,  and  help  to  resist  the  pressure  of 


ONE   BAY   OF    THE    NAVE, 
CATHEDRAL  OK   AMIENS. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury. 


131 


the  vaults.  There  is  this  much  reaHzation  ol  the  Gothic  principle;  but 
it  is  a  partial  and  also  a  concealed  realization,  not  such  a  frank  and 
full  one,  wrought  to  effects  of  noblest  exterior  beauty,  as  we  see  in 
the  boldly  buttressed  nave  of  Amiens.  And  as  much  progress  as  this 
toward  Gothic  construction  had  been 
made  in  Norman  years;  there  are  con- 
cealed buttress-arches  in  the  triforium 
at  Durham  as  well  as  at  Salisbury. 

Appreciating  how  the  English  thus 
failed  to  design  in  accordance  with  the 
true  Gothic  scheme,  we  are  better  able 
to  understand  why  they  built  their 
churches  so  low.  A  novel  construc- 
tional scheme  is  never  inspired  by  the 
desire  for  a  novel  effect.  It  is  the 
other  way  —  the  scheme  is  developed 
for  practical  reasons  and  the  novel  ef- 
fect naturally  results,  although,  once  its 
beauty  is  perceived,  it  may  be  still  fur- 
ther pursued  for  its  own  sake.  Desir- 
ing to  build  their  vaults  easily  and  well, 
and  to  economize  labor  and  cost  in  the 
other  parts  of  their  fabric,  French  Gothic 
builders  conceived  a  scheme  which  per- 
mitted walls  to  be  carried  to  enormous 
heights.  They  were  quick  to  see  and 
profit  by  the  jesthetic  possibilities  of  this 
fact,  but  it  was  not  these  possibilities 
which  gave  birth  to  the  great  Gothic 
principle.  Conversely,  we  may  be- 
lieve that  English  architects  kept  their 
churches  low  rather  because  they  failed 
to  understand  or  feared  to  cope  with 
the  fundamental  principle  of  Gothic  con- 
struction than  because  they  consciously  preferred  lowness  to  height. 
A  low  and  narrow  church  could  be  built  without  an  elaborately  scien- 
tific scheme  of  vaulting-shafts  and  flying-buttresses  forming  an  organic 
framework,  even  though  its  walls  were  largely  transformed  into  win- 
dows; but  a  very  tall  and  broad  church  could  not  be. 

Look  once  more  at  the  drawing  of  .\miens  and  see  how  ciuickly  the 


ONE   BAY    OF  THE  NAVE, 
SALISBURY  CATHEDRAL. 


132 


Englisli  Cnfhcdrais. 


adoption  of  Gothic  metliods  of  construction  brought  about  the  enlarge- 
ment of  the  windows.  This  was  the  real  sequence  of  cause  and  effect: 
a  desire  for  larger  windows  did  not,  as  we  are  so  often  told,  force  a  con- 
centration of  weights  upon  piers  and  buttresses,  but  this  concentration 
permitted  the  enlargement,  and  the  aesthetic  advantages  of  the  change 
were  quickly  perceived.  See,  too,  how  a  more  complete  structural  devel- 
opment also  means  greater  artistic  unity  and  a  more  typically  Gothic — 
a  more  aspiring  —  expression.  It  is  not  only  because  Amiens  is  so  much 
taller  tlian  Salisl)ur\-  that  it  looks  more  aspiring.      The  vertical  accen- 


'I' 


1=  ^^^^ 


THE  CLOISTER 


tuation  of  its  design  would  preserve  this  look  to  a  great  degree  even 
were  proportions  as  low  as  in  the  English  church.  Moreover,  this 
accentuation  brings  all  the  stages  into  a  homogeneous  composition. 
From  floor  to  vault-apex  everything  at  Amiens  is  related  to  every- 
thing else,  while  at  Salisbury  each  story  is  separate  and  distinct. 
Again,  at  Amiens  windows  and  walls  are  integrally  united,  but  at 
Salisbury  the  windows  are  almost  as  truly  mere  piercings  as  they  had 
been  in  Norman  churches.  And  again,  all  the  arch-forms  harmonize 
at  Amiens,  while  at  Salisbury  there  is  a  want  of  concord  between  the 
shapes  adopted  in  the  three  successive  stories.      In  short,  even  to  an 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury.  133 

eye  which  thinks  of  aesthetic  effect  but  does  not  recognize  that  this 
depends  upon  constructional  ideals,  Salisbury  seems  an  aggregate  of 
almost  independent  parts,  while  Amiens  seems  the  logical  expression 
of  a  single  coherent  architectural  idea. 

These  are  all  questions  as  to  the  clearness  and  breadth  with  which 
the  great  Gothic  principle  was  conceived  in  England  and  in  France,  not 
questions  of  priority  in  development.  Even  if  we  knew  that  Salisbury 
were  a  century  older  than  Amiens  we  should  not  be  reconciled  to  its 
imperfections ;  we  should  feel  that  out  of  this  scheme  a  pure  and  com- 
plete Gothic  scheme  was  not  likely  to  develop ;  we  should  see  that  this 
interior  might  almost  be  rebuilt  with  round  arches  without  essential 
alteration ;  and  we  should  remember  that  even  in  many  Norman 
churches  there  had  been  a  nearer  approach  to  Gothic  principles,  as 
there  we  do  find  great  vaulting-shafts  running  from  floor  to  ceiling  and 
binding  the  stages  of  the  composition  together.  But  these  two  naves 
were,  in  fact,  contemporaneous  ;  and  when  we  know  this,  when  we 
recollect  that  the  choir  of  Canterbury  (designed  by  a  Frenchman  fifty 
years  before  Salisbury  was  begun)  is  more  Gothic  in  construction 
than  Salisbury,  and  yet  that  Salisbury  is  quoted  to  explain  the  true 
English  Gothic  ideal  as  often  as  Amiens  is  quoted  to  explain  the  true 
French  Gothic  ideal  — then  indeed  we  realize  the  essential  inferiority 
of  the  English  constructional  scheme. 

To  sustain  the  claims  of  English  Gothic  to  equality  with  French, 
however,  many  modern  commentators  lay  stress  upon  certain  minor 
elements.  Ignoring  main  constructional  questions,  they  dwell  upon 
the  way  in  which  mouldings  and  capitals  were  treated.  We  are  told 
that  even  in  their  best  days  Frenchmen  moulded  their  arches  in  a 
simple  manner  which  contrasts  most  unfavorably  with  the  infinite  rich- 
ness and  diversity  of  section  that  the  English  gave  to  theirs;  and  that 
the  square  abacus  (which  is  declared  to  be  classic  in  feeling  and  appro- 
priate only  to  Romanesque  work)  was  preserved  in  France  while  from 
the  first  Gothic  days  Englishmen  used  that  round  abacus  without 
which,  so  we  are  assured,  no  work  can  be  "pure  Gothic." 

Such  claims  as  these  cannot  so  easily  be  settled  by  a  process  of 
reasoning  based  on  constructional  principles  as  can  claims  with  regard 
to  structural  development.  They  must  be  settled  largely  as  questions  of 
taste.  The  eye  as  well  as  the  mind  must  play  a  great  part  in  deciding 
whether  the  lines  of  a  rectangular  abacus  detract  from  verticality  of 
effect,  or  whether  an  arch  moulded  with  a  score  of  very  delicately  varied 
and  calculated  rolls,  hollows,  and  ridges  seems  more  truly  Gothic  than 
9* 


134  Eug/ish  Cathedrals. 

one  of  much  simpler,  bolder  section.  Willi  the  judgment  of  no  one's 
taste  do  I  wish  to  quarrel.  But  I  may  at  least  report  the  judgment  of 
my  own,  which  is  that  the  square  abacus  does  not  injure  verticality  of 
effect  at  all,  but  l^rings  into  a  scheme  where  vertical  lines  predominate 
just  the  right  accent  of  relief — just  that  touch  of  contrast  and  e.xception 
which  is  needed  to  make  the  general  aspiration  impress  us.  Its  dis- 
creet emphasizing  of  stability  comes  as  a  welcome  masculine  note  in  the 
great  upward  sweep  of  the  main  lines  and  the  luxuriance  of  the  deco- 
rative details.  Beauty  must  be  granted  to  the  marvelously  elaborate 
English  arch-moulding  ;  beauty,  and  the  proof  of  a  delicacy  in  eye  and 
hand  which  nothing  else  in  English  work  so  plainly  demonstrates.  But 
to  my  taste,  I  may  say  again,  they  seem  effeminate  and  overdone  com- 
pared with  the  greater  simplicity  of  French  e.xamples.  We  admire 
them  for  their  lovely  contrasts  of  light  and  shadow,  but  we  crave  a 
little  more  vigor  and  restfulness,  and  a  little  more  look  of  necessity.' 

In  truth,  if  we  want  to  find  a  scheme  where  every  feature  plays  a 
needful  part  in  a  great  architectural  entity,  we  must  look  to  France,  not 
England.  The  best  French  Gothic  work  is  absolutely  logical.  Every 
shaft,  for  instance,  in  a  clustered  pier  has  a  useful  part  to  play  as  cor- 
responding to  something  above  it  —  is  a  special  support  necessary  for 
the  eye's  satisfaction,  if  not  for  actual  stability.  And  the  same  is  true 
of  all  other  shafts  and  ribs  and  capitals.  No  professedly  structural 
features,  however  small,  exist  for  the  sake  of  superficial  beauty  only. 
Where  they  are  needed  for  constructional  or  e.xpressional  strength, 
there  they  always  are ;  antl  where  they  are  not  needed,  there  they 
never  were  placed.  But  in  England  we  often  find  minor  shafts,  which 
have  no  functional  life ;  -  while,  as  we  have  seen,  such  great  functional 
features  as  the  vaulting-ribs  are  not  supported  from  below,  but  are 
based  on  corbels  clinging  to  the  upper  wall.  Note,  too,  in  the  Amiens 
picture  how  the  deep,  strong  capital  of  the  pier  proper  is  flanked  by 
smaller,  shallower  ones  crowning  the  attached  shafts.  Is  not  this  a 
finer  piece  of  design,  because  more  logical  and  expressive,   because 

1  It  is  impossible  here  to  discuss  these  questions  lygonal  form  ;  and  the  fact  that  this  form  hkewise 
adequately.  I  can  only  remark  that  there  was,  of  prevailed  in  late  English  Gothic  was  due  to  the  fact 
course,  a  natural  relationship  between  the  square  that  English  mouldings  then  exchanged  their  round- 
abacus  and  the  simply  treated  arch-mouldings  of  ed  contours  for  sharper  ones.  The  bases  of  piers 
France  and  between  the  round  abacus  of  England  and  columns  always  harmonized,  of  course,  with  the 
and  the  very  complex  mouldings  from  which  square  design  of  their  capitals.  The  cut  at  the  head  of  this 
sections  were  entirely  banished.  In  the  later  days  chapter  shows  the  base  of  a  small  Early  English  pier 
of  French  Gothic  art,  arches  were  more  complexly  from  one  of  the  monuments  in  Salisbury  Cathedral. 
moulded  than  they  had  been  during  the  great  thir-  a  See  the  grouped  shafts  in  the  triforium-stage  in  the 
teenth  century,  and  the  abacus  then  assumed  a  po-  pictureof  the  Angel  Choir  at  Lincoln,  in  Chapter  VII. 


The  Cathedyal  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury 


135 


.(,.>.x^  Jfi'ju  ,lu«^'»v,^-'^.,^ 


THE  BISHOP'S   PALACE 


more  organic,  than  the  group  of  equal  capitals  on  the  Salisbury  pier? 
And  thus  we  find  that,  after  all,  while  the  eye  has  much  to  say  as 
regards  such  things  as  moldings  and  capitals,  it  never  can  have 
everything  to  say.  It  enables  us  to  measure  their  superficial  beauty ; 
but  we  must  also  appraise  their  architectural  meaning,  and  when 
meaning  is  in  question,  then  the  mind  must  be  called  upon  to  help 
the  eye's  examination. 

The  best  thing  about  Salisbury's  interior  is  the  design  of  the  eastern 
end.  Here  three  tall  arches,  the  lateral  ones  extremely  slender,  are 
surmounted  by  a  group  of  five,  and  again  by  another  group  of  five. 
This  is  the  end-wall  of  the  choir  proper,  and  its  upper  ranges  of 
openings  look  out  over  the  roofs  of  retrochoir  and  Lady-chapel,  and 
are  filled  with  glass.  But  through  the  three  large  lower  arches  we 
see  into  the  retrochoir  and  chapel,  where  slender  isolated  shafts 
make  exquisite  perspectives,  changing  in  effect  Avith  every  step  we 
take.  These  outlying  spaces,  thus  seen  as  through  a  tripled  frame, 
are  the  English  substitute  for  the  sweeping  apse  of  France  with  its 


136  English  CatJicdrals. 

encircling  aisles  and  chapels,  and  for  the  unaisled  polygonal  apse  of 
Germany.  The  prize  for  grandeur,  for  organic  unity,  for  impressive 
beauty,  and  for  constructional  skill  must  be  given  to  France.  Yet 
the  English  arrangement  has  an  infinite  charm,  and,  as  I  have  said, 
there  is  no  need  for  Americans  to  quarrel  with  the  rich  diversity  de- 
veloped by  differing  national  prepossessions.  Here,  at  all  events,  we 
do  not  see  the  same  scheme  that  was  evolved  in  France  treated  in 
a  less  successful  way.  We  see  an  entirely  different  scheme,  beautiful 
in  itself  and  very  beautifully  developed. 

The  interior  as  well  as  the  e.\tcrior  of  Salisbury  is  devoid  of  sculp- 
tured decoration.  The  capitals,  like  the  arches,  show  elaborate  mould- 
ings merely.  Certain  other  great  interiors  of  the  time  are  almost  as 
plain,  yet  nowhere  is  the  effect  so  severely  simple.  We  have  already 
seen  in  the  Nine  Altars  at  Durham  that  Early  English  architects  could 
lavishly  adorn  their  work  if  they  chose,  and  we  shall  see  it  often  again 
as  our  journey  continues.  Salisbury,  therefore,  should  be  accepted 
as  the  type  of  an  Early  English  church  chiefly  with  regard  to  its  plan 
and  construction.  The  greater  richness  of  other  examples  must  be 
borne  in  mind  when  we  appraise  the  style  as  a  whole. 


VI 

The  chapter-house  and  cloister  at  Salisbury,  like  the  church  itself 
stand  to-day  as  at  first  constructed,  and  date  from  the  Early  English 
period.  They  were  built  just  after  the  church  was  finished  and  resem- 
ble the  west  front,  being  richer  in  feature  and  detail  than  the  nave, 
against  the  south  side  of  which  they  lie.  Every  cathedral  chapter 
needed,  of  course,  a  chapter-house  for  its  assemblings;  but  only 
monastic  houses  needed  cloister-walks  for  the  daily  recreation  of  the 
monks  who  led  their  lives  in  common.  Salisbury  is  a  cathedral  of  the 
Old  Foundation :  its  chapter  was  always  collegiate.  Its  cloisters, 
therefore,  were  a  piece  of  pure  architectural  luxury.  The  fact  speaks 
plainly  through  the  absence  of  other  structures  for  life  in  common. 
Nothing  more  than  the  quadrangle  itself  and  the  chapter-house  ever 
stood  at  Salisbury,  except  a  lofty  bell -tower  on  the  north  side  of  the 
church.  This  was  "  multangular  in  form,  surmounted  by  a  leaden 
spire,  with  walls  and  buttresses  similar  to  the  chapter-house  and 
cloisters,  and  a  single  pillar  of  Purbeck  marble  in  the  centre,  sup- 
porting bells  and  spire."  It  was  destroyed  by  Wyatt,  apparendy  for 
no  reason,  but  with  full  consent  of  dean  and  chapter. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury. 


137 


The  cloister-walks,  with  their  coupled  windows,  bold  traceries,  and 
groined  roofs,  are  very  charming,  and  the  priests  well  gave  the  name 
of  Paradise  to  the  central  square  of  turf  with  its  group  of  dusky  cedars. 
The   chapter-house   is  of  the   typical   English   form  :    an  octagon  Avith 


^1  J=llj7ii.;>^,'_;:ni  ■  ;^ 


■'SS^  '"^i^  *  ~=--.''' 


yf.'^j^js;-. 


f%3STftfi!f?  > 


'fc? 


J 


A  GATEWAY  TO  THE  CLOSE. 


great  windows  filling  the  spaces  between  its  buttresses,  and  an  over- 
arching ceiling  supported  by  a  clustered  central  pier.  But  it  is  not  as 
satisfactory  as  certain  sister-structures  which  we  shall  find  elsewhere. 
Its  forms  and  proportions  seem  a  little  thin  and  poor,  cold  and  mechan- 
ical ;  and  modern  attempts  to  restore  its  painted  color  have  resulted  in 
a  dismal  tawdriness.  If  we  want  to  see  it  at  its  best  we  must  stand 
outside,  a  little  to  the  southward,  beyond  the  door  which  leads  from 
the  cloister  into  the  episcopal  garden.      Here  its  polygonal  outline  and 


138  E)ii^/is/i  Catlicdmls. 


;>' 


the  low  walls  of  the  cloister  group  wonderfully  well  with  the  varied 
masses  of  the  church  itself  The  composition  is  one  of  great  purity, 
loveliness,  and  soft  grandeur,  immeasurably  enhanced  by  the  wide 
stretch  of  idyllic  garden  about  it. 

Passing  around  the  church  once  more  we  are  delighted  by  the  perfect 
finish  of  its  masonry  and  the  beauty  of  its  color — pale  ashy  gray,  con- 
spicuously stained  below  with  broad  patches  of  red  and  yellow  lichens. 
We  are  delighted,  too,  by  the  lack  of  emphatic  treatment  in  the  foun- 
dations. Here,  where  nature  gave  no  rocky  base,  we  might  have  ex- 
pected to  see  a  rock-like  base  of  man's  workmanship;  but  the  walls  rise 
nearly  straight  from  the  deep  emerald  turf.  The  church  seems  rather 
to  rest  upon  the  surface  of  the  ground  than  to  send  out  massive  roots 
beneath  it.  Yet  the  effect  is  admirable.  With  a  smaller  structure  there 
might  be  a  look  of  slightncss  and  insecurity;  but  Salisbury  is  so  im- 
mense, its  lateral  arms  stretch  out  so  boldly,  and  its  square  angles  are 
so  calm  and  steady  in  expression  that  it  has  no  need  to  proclaim  its 
foundations  with  more  distinctness.  Indeed,  we  feel  that  such  proc- 
lamation would  injure  that  generaMook  of  quiet  elegance  and  grace 
which  so  peculiarly  distinguishes  this  cathedral. 

The  wall  around  the  close  was  not  built  until  the  fourteenth  century, 
when  Edward  III.  gave  permission  to  "embattle"  the  cathedral  pre- 
cincts and  to  use  for  the  purpose  the  stones  of  the  church  at  Old 
Sarum.  On  the  north  the  barrier  lies  so  far  away  from  the  church, 
and  on  the  west  it  comes  so  much  nearer  that  the  secondary  impor- 
tance of  the  fagade  is  again  explained  to  the  eye.  It  is  nowhere  a 
very  lofty  wall,  and  in  some  parts  is  very  low.  Here  and  there  among 
its  stones  may  be  seen  bits  of  Norman  carving  which  are  the  only 
existing  witness  to  the  style  and  finish  of  the  ancient  hill-town  church. 

Beyond  the  wall  to  the  west  runs  a  row  of  canons'  homes,  each  set 
back  in  its  luxuriant  litde  garden,  and  beyond  it  to  the  north  is  another 
expanse  of  green  and  then  more  houses.  Most  of  them  are  of  Eliza- 
bethan design,  or  of  one  of  those  Queen  Anne  or  Georgian  patterns 
which  in  this  country  we  call  Colonial.  In  size  and  shape  they  con- 
stantly remind  us  of  things  which  we  have  seen  at  home,  but  in  sub- 
stance and  color  they  are  wholly  English.  They  have  fine  red-tiled 
roofs,  and  their  walls  are  of  brick,  or  of  brick  and  plaster,  or  of  stone 
and  flint;  and  where  the  stones  have  been  patched  with  ruddy  bricks 
there  is  no  effort  to  conceal  the  disparity  in  material  which  gives  so 
beautiful  a  variety  in  tint.  Vines  cover,  trees  embower,  and  flowers 
encircle  them.     The  color-effect  as  a  whole  is  enchanting,  and  the  air 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Salisbury. 


139 


of  mingled  dignity,  unworldliness,  and  peace  which  broods  over  the 
church  itself  broods  over  the  dwellings  of  its  ministrants  as  well. 

Although  Salisbury  was  a  cathedral  church  from  very  early  times, 
much  of  its  history  is  as  void  of  great  prelatical  names  as  is  the 
history  of  Peterborough,  which  was  merely  an  abbey  church  until  the 
sixteenth  century.  After  the  days  of  Old  Sarum  not  the  bishops  but 
the  earls  of  Salisbury,  whose  cross-legged  effigies  may  be  seen  in 
the   nave,  made  the  name  of  their  town  a  power  in   the  world. 


THE  SPIRE,  FROM   THE  AVON. 


Chaptkr    VI 


TMI-:    CATHEDRAL    OF    ST.   MAKV    AND    ST.  CHAD,   LICHFIELD 


ROM  the  Norman  cathedrals  of  the  eastern  part 
of  Enjjfhind  it  was  a  natural  step  to  the  cathe- 
dral of  Salisbury,  which  explains  the  earliest 
Gothic  style.  From  Salisbury  it  is  as  natural 
a  step  to  Lichfield,  where  the  next  succeeding 
style,  the  Decorated  Gothic,  rules.  But  even 
if  there  were  no  such  close  historic  sequence, 
memory  would  take  us  the  same  road.  When 
we  think  of  the  uncqualed  single  tower  at  Salisbury,  we  naturally  think 
of  the  unrivaled  group  of  three  at  Lichfield  ;  and  when  we  remember 
the  majestic  air  of  most  great  English  churches,  we  instinctively  recall 
by  contrast  the  lovelier,  more  feminine  character  of  these  two. 

Lichfield  is  not  a  large  and  busy  nor  yet  a  rurally  attractive  town.  It 
is  of  medium  size,  and  is  mediocre  in  its  aspect  also.  Its  site  shows  no 
striking  natural  features,  and  the  country  through  which  we  approach 
it  pleases  by  placid  greenness  only.  Its  history  is  equally  uninterest- 
ing. The  guide-book  tells  us,  indeed,  that  it  is  "  rich  in  associations 
with  Samuel  Johnson  "  ;  but  this  means  little  more  than  that  we  may  see 
the  house  where  he  was  born,  and  mav  find  a  monument  to  Iiim  in  the 
market-square  which,  for  artistic  imbecilil\,  is  the  most  remarkable 
work  in  England.  Those  who  really  care  about  their  Johnson  can 
walk  much  more  closely  with  his  spirit  in  London  than  in  Lichfield. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  Garrick,  who  also  chanced  to  be  born  here, 
and  of  Addison,  who  studied  at  the  grammar-school ;  and  the  attrac- 
tions of  a  dismal  hostelry  are  not  vividly  enhanced  by  the  information 
that  it  was  the  scene  of  Farquhar's  play,  "The  I)eau's  Stratagem."  In 
short,  the  literary  associations  of  Lichfield  are  of  a  third-rate  musty 
sort;  it  never  made  dramatic  appearance  before  the  world  except  in 
the  sieges  of  Cromwellian  times;  and  these  sieges  concern  the  history 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mayy  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.     141 

of  the  cathedral,  not  of  the  town  itself  The  cathedral,  and  the  cathe- 
dral only,  makes  Lichfield  worth  visitin^r  or  remembering.  And  the 
fact  is  typified  by  the  station  of  the  church,  which  does  not  stand  in  the 
middle  of  the  city,  but  beside  it,  a  broad  stretch  of  water  called  the 
Cathedral  Pool  dividing  its  precincts  from  the  torpid  streets. 


LICHFIELD   CATHEDRAL,  FROM   THE   EAST. 


Lichfield  lay  of  old  in  the  centre  of  Mercia  —  the  Middle  Kingdom 
—  and  thus  lies  to-day  in  the  very  centre  of  united  England.  As  we 
find  so  frequently,  a  church  first  marked  the  site  and  then  a  town  grew 
up  around  it.  Tradition  says  that  the  name  is  derived  from  the  Old 
English  lie  (a  dead  body),  and  perpetuates  the  martyrdom  of  a  thousand 
Roman  or  British  Christians  who  suffered  under  Diocletian  on  the  spot 
where  the  cathedral  stands.  But  it  is  a  far  cry  from  Diocletian's  time 
to  the  time  when  the  light  of  actual  history  first  falls  on  Lichfield  and 
shows  Christianity  existing.  It  was  not  until  half  a  century  later  than 
the  landing  of  St.  Augustine  that  the  Middle  Kingdom  hail  a  baptized 


142  English    Cathedrals. 

prince  and  a  consecrated  bishop.  In  669  Ceadda,  or  St.  Cliad,  a  holy 
man  of  extended  fame,  succeeded  as  fourth  bishop  to  the  still  unlocated 
chair.  He  fixed  his  seat  at  Lichfield,  and  the  cathedral  church  still 
bears  his  name  conjointly  with  the  Blessed  Virgin's.  In  the  eighth  cen- 
tury the  bishops  of  Lichfield  were  given  archicpiscopal  rank  with  juris- 
diction over  six  sees,  all  but  four  being  taken  away  from  Canterbury. 
But  another  pope  soon  undid  the  act  of  his  predecessor;  and  in  the 
eleventh  century  Lichfield  was  left  without  even  the  episcopal  name. 
The  unprotected  little  town  in  the  middle  of  its  wide  flat  country 
seemed  to  William  the  Conqueror  no  proper  prelatical  seat.  The 
first  Norman  bishop  migrated  to  Chester,  and  the  second  moved 
acrain  to  Coventry,  being  attracted,  it  is  said,  by  the  riches  of  the 
monastery  which  had  been  founded  by  Godiva  and  her  repentant  earl. 
Lichfield,  however,  still  preserved  its  prominence ;  its  church  seems  to 
have  been  again  a  cathedral  church  in  the  earlier  years  of  the  twelfth 
century;  and  —  apparently  without  special  decree,  by  mere  force  of 
its  central  position  —  it  gradually  overshadowed  Coventry  until  the 
latter's  role  in  the  diocese  became  nominal  only.  At  the  time  of  the 
Reformation  the  bishops  of  the  see  still  styled  themselves  "of  Lich- 
field and  Coventry,"  but  for  generations  no  one  had  questioned  where 
their  chair  should  stand. 

Coventry's  house  was  monastic,  Lichfield's  was  collegiate,  and  there 
were  hot  jealousies  betw^een  them.  Just  before  the  year  1200  Bishop 
Hugh  determined  to  drive  out  the  monks  from  Coventry,  and  suc- 
ceeded by  force  of  arms,  being  wounded  himself  as  he  stood  by  the 
hiph  altar.  A  few  years  later  they  came  back  again,  and  jealousies 
crrew  to  bitter  quarrels,  especially  when  a  bishop's  election  occurred. 
But  the  story  of  such  wranglings  grows  duller  in  proportion  to  the 
growth  of  civilized  manners ;  and  dull,  too,  it  must  be  confessed,  are 
the  stories  of  most  of  the  prelates  who  filled  this  chair.  Walter  Lang- 
ton  (i  296-1321)  led  a  stormily  picturesque  life  as  an  outspoken  enemy 
of  Edward  II.;  Robert  Stretton,  a  protege  of  the  Black  Prince,  had  a 
certain  queer  prominence  in  his  day  as  a  bishop  who  could  not  read 
or  write ;  and  Rowland  Lee  is  even  yet  remembered,  because  he 
assisted  Cranmer  at  the  marriage  of  Anne  Boleyn,  and  as  President 
of  Wales  secured  the  franchise  for  its  inhabitants.  But  most  of  their 
fellows  were  inconspicuous  at  Lichfield,  and  only  after  the  Reformation 
were  many  of  them  translated  to  more  prominent  chairs. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.     143 


The  little  church  of  St.  Chad  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  Pool,  at 
some  distance  from  the  site  of  the  present  cathedral.  When  this  latter 
site  was  first  built  upon  we  do  not  know ;  but  a  Norman  church  pre- 
ceded the  one  that  we  see  to-day.  No  great  misfortune  seems  to  have 
overtaken  it ;  it  was  simply  pulled  down  piece  by  piece  until  not  a 
visible  stone  of  its  fabric  remained.  Eastward  it  ended  in  a  semicir- 
cular apse.  Beyond  this  apse  a  large  chapel  was  erected  in  the  Tran- 
sitional period,  and  soon  afterward  the  Norman  choir  and  apse  were 
removed,  and  the  whole  east  limb  was  brought  into  architectural  con- 
cord. In  the  first  half  of  the  thirteenth  century  the  transept  was 
reconstructed  in  the  Lancet-Pointed  style,  and  in  the  second  half,  the 
nave  and  west  front  in  the  Decorated  style.  Then,  about  1300,  another 
chapel  was  thrown  out  to  the  eastward ;  and  finally  the  Transitional 
chapel,  and  for  the  second  time  the  choir,  were  demolished  and  rebuilt. 
These  last  alterations  also  befell  in  the  Decorated  period,  so  that  the 
whole  longer  arm  of  the  cross  illustrates  this  style  —  westward  in  its 
earlier,  eastward  in  its  later  phase  —  while  the  shorter  arm  is  still 
Early  English.  In  the  latest  days  of  Gothic  art  Perpendicular  win- 
dows were  freely  inserted  in  the  choir  and  transept,  and  the  central 
tower,  which  perished  in  the  Civil  War,  was  rebuilt  by  Sir  Christopher 
Wren  after  the  Restoration. 

Deplorable  indeed  must  have  been  the  condition  of  the  church  when 
the  second  Charles  came  back  to  his  own.  The  wildest  havoc  wrought 
elsewhere  by  the  Civil  War  was  little  to  the  ruin  wrought  at  Lichfield. 
Bishop  Langton — he  who  was  so  long  at  feud  with  King  Edward  II. — 
had  seen  fit  to  embattle  the  close,  around  which  the  town  lay  flat  and 
defenseless.  But  as  a  knight  of  old  was  sometimes  slain  by  the  weight 
of  his  protecting  armor,  so  the  walls  of  Lichfield  worked  its  undoing. 
When  Lord  Brooke,  with  his  Puritans,  was  coming  from  Warwick  in 
1643,  the  Royalists  threw  themselves  into  the  close,  manned  the  cause- 
ways across  the  Pool,  pierced  the  ecclesiastical  houses  for  cannon  and 
musket-barrels,  and  made  the  church  itself  their  citadel.  Brooke  prayed 
fervently  in  front  of  his  troops  that  God  would  assist  him  to  destroy  the 
house  of  God  which  man  had  now  made  a  stronghold  of  tj-ranny  as 
well  as  a  haunt  of  superstition.  His  prayers  were  answered  by  a  shot 
from  the  spire  which  ended  his  own  life ;  but  on  the  next  day  the 
spire  and  tower  fell  into  the  church,  and  on  the  ne.xt  the  close  was 
surrendered.     Then  for  a  month  there  was  riot  and  ravage.      Every- 


144 


English  Cathciirals. 


THE  SPIRES   BY  MOONLIGHT. 


thing  breakable  was  broken,  everything  valuable  was  purloined.  The 
org-an  was  shattered,  like  the  windows,  the  seats,  the  monuments,  and 
even  the  floor  which  had  been  curiously  paved  with  lozenge-shaped 
blocks  of  cannel-coal  and  alabaster.  In  the  tomb  of  a  bishop  some 
lucky  thief  found  a  silver  cup  and  a  crozier ;  and  this  meant,  of  course, 
that  no  other  tomb  remained  unpillaged,  no  saint's  ashes  undisturbed. 
But  in  the  midst  of  the  sacrilegious  revelry,  word  came  that  Prince 
Rupert  was  near.  Again  there  was  a  siege,  this  time  lasting  for  ten 
days ;  again  a  surrender,  and  an  occupation  by  the  Royalist  troops 
when  King  Charles  tarried  with  them  briefly  after  his  defeat  at 
Naseby ;  and  then  a  third  and  still  longer  siege,  and  final  posses- 
sion by  the   Parliamentary  army. 

John  Hacket  was  the  first  bishop  after  the  Restoration.  He  found 
the  roof  of  his  cathedral  almost  gone,  its  exterior  scarred  by  icono- 
clastic axes  and  pock-marked  by  cannon-ball  and  musket-shot,  and 
its  interior  a  mass  of  rain-washed  rubbish  —  piled  with  the  fragments 
of  the  furniture  and  the  great  stones  of  the  spire.  Its  piteous  appeal 
for  immediate  action  fell  upon  a  sympathetic  ear.  The  very  next 
morning  after  his  arrival  Hacket  set  to  work,  and  the  very  first  work 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.    145 

was  done  by  his  own  episcopal  fingers.  From  year  to  year  he  con- 
tributed generously  in  money  too  —  some  ten  thousand  pounds  in  all  — 
while  the  canons  gave  up  half  their  income,  and  King  Charles  sent  tim- 
ber fi-om  his  forests.  In  eight  years  the  whole  work  was  accomplished, 
including  Sir  Christopher's  spire;  and  just  before  his  death,  in  1675, 
the  doughty  bishop  joyfully  reconsecrated  his  cathedral.  The  days  of 
Romish  consecrations  and  of  Gothic  art  were  of  course  long  since  past ; 
but  even  a  Catholic  may  have  rejoiced  to  see  the  havoc  of  the  Puritan 
thus  partially  made  good. 


Ill 

The  essays  of  the  great  Renaissance  architect  with  what  we  may  call 
posthumous  Gothic  were  not  always  successful ;  but  his  Lichfield  spire 
is  singularly  good,  and  the  church  as  he  left  it  goes  far  to  satisfy  one's 
wish  for  an  illustration  of  what  the  Decorated  style  could  achieve. 

It  is  not  a  style  which  interests  us  so  much  in  England  as  those 
which  came  before  and  after — the  Lancet- Pointed  and  the  Perpen- 
dicular. It  is  not  less  beautiful  ;  indeed,  it  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all 
Gothic  styles,  the  truest,  completest  Gothic  ;  but  it  is  less  characteris- 
tically English,  alike  in  its  forms  and  in  the  quantit)-  of  the  work  which 
it  has  left  us. 

The  lines  of  architectural  effort,  as  we  know,  ran  pretty  close  together 
in  all  the  north  of  Europe  during  the  Norman  period.  Then  for  a 
while  they  diverged,  Germany  still  clinging  to  her  Romanesque  and 
England  developing  her  Lancet-Pointed  manner,  while  France  began 
at  once  to  master  the  difficulties  of  traceried  Gothic.  Then  they  con- 
verged again,  through  the  nearer  approach  of  Germany  and  England 
to  the  ideals  of  France;  and  finally  once  more  they  parted,  England 
creating  the  Perpendicular  and  France  the  Flamboyant  Gothic.  The 
height  of  the  Decorated  stvle  thus  means  in  Ensfland  the  least  indi- 
vidual  manifestation  of  national  taste.  Lancet- Pointed  and  Perpen- 
dicular work  we  can  study  nowhere  but  here ;  pure  full-blown  Gothic 
we  can  study  elsewhere,  and,  it  must  be  confessed,  to  better  advantage. 

Then,  as  I  have  said,  the  Decorated  work  of  England  does  not  equal 
in  quantity  the  work  bequeathed  by  other  epochs.  The  era  during 
which  it  reigned — 1300  may  stand  as  the  central  date — was  not  a 
great  church-building  era.  Such  an  one  had  opened  with  the  coming 
of  the  Norman,  and  had  lasted  until  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. By  this  time  enough  great  churches  had  been  built  to  satisfy  a 
10 


146 


Hni^/is/i  Cathedrals. 


generation  whose  minds  and  purse-strings  the  Church  no  Ioniser  undis- 
putedly  controlled.  It  was  the  time  of  the  first  vague  stirrings  of  Pro- 
testant sap,  and  the  time  of  the  first  strong  consciousness  of  national 
unity  and  of  its  correlative,  national  independence.      It  was  the  time 

of  the  first  Edward  —  the  first  truly  English 
king  since  Harold — and  of  his  two  name- 
sakes, marked  by  splendid  and  expensive 
wars,  legislative  and  social  innovations, 
and  a  half-revolt  against  the  dictatorship  of 
Rome.  The  military  and  the  domestic  spirit 
now  began  to  play  a  greater  part  in  di- 
recting architectural  effort.  Not  since  the 
reign  of  the  Norman  Williams  had  there 
been  so  great  a  castle-building  reign  as  that 
of  Edward  I.  ;  but  it  saw  the  founding  of 
no  cathedral  churches,  and  tlie  most  jirolific 
time  of  church  alteration  did  not  begin  till 
later.  K  few  cathedrals  show  more  or  less 
conspicuous  portions  in  the  Decorated 
style ;  but  none  comes  so  near  to  being 
wholly  in  this  style  as  Lichfield,  nor  is 
there  any  Decorated  non-cathedral  church 
which  rivals  it  except  Beverley  Minster  in 
\'orkshire.  This  is  as  large  as  Lichfield 
Cathedral,  and,  except  for  its  lack  of  spires 
and  its  prosaic  situation, — two  very  large 
exceptions, — it  is  perhaps  more  beautiful. 
*'Ti.inKp"kkics.'' g;  ooJn^^^^  Certainly  its  interior  has  a  vaster,  grander 

air,  more  in  accord  with  the  sound  of  the 
word  cathedral. 


PLAN  OF  LICHFIELD  CATHEDRAL 
FROM  Murray's  "HANonooK." 


lower.  H,  Chnir.  J,  Prcsbylery.  K,  K. 
Choir-aisles.  L,  Rctrochoir.  M.  Lady-cha- 
pcL  N,  N.  S.^crlsty  .ind  Trca-sury.  O,  Ves- 
tibule c)f  chapter-house.  I*,  Chapter-house. 
2.  Choir-screen.  1,  Hi>;h  altar.  16,  Chan- 
trcy's  "Sleeping  Children." 


IV 

LiciiFii.i.n  is  the  smallest  of  the  English  cathedrals —  1 1 5  feet  shorter 
than  Salisbury,  for  example,  and  some  50  feet  less  in  the  spread  of  its 
transept.  Outside  it  looks  larger  than  it  is,  but  inside  still  smaller. 
Even  a  length  of  336  feet  will  still  be  enough,  we  imagine,  to  give 
great  spaciousness  and  majesty.      But  on  entering  the  west  portal  it  is 

1  The  internal  length  of  Lichfield  Cathedral  is  371  feet,  and  the  spread  of  its  transept  is  149  feet. 
The  chapter-house  is  40  feet  3  inches  by  27  feet  S  inches  in  diameter. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  C/iad,  LicJifield.    147 


charm,  not  size,  that  strikes  us.  We  see  a  beautiful,  noble,  dignified 
church,  but  the  words  immensity,  power,  magnificence,  do  not  occur  to 
us.  It  takes  us  some  time  to  realize  how  long  a  reach  of  choir  lies 
beyond  the  crossing  and  the  screen,  a  longer  reach  than  that  of  the 
nave  itself;  and  when  we  realize  it,  the  structure  still  lacks  majesty,  for 
its  breadth  is  only  66  feet  and  its  height  is  barely  60.  Moreover,  this 
height  is  decreased  to  the  eye  by 
the  character  of  the  wall-design.  In- 
dividually considered,  the  three  sto- 
ries of  Lichfield's  nave  are  beautiful; 
but  considered  all  together,  as  a  com- 
position, they  fail  to  satisfy  us.  The 
slender  vaulting-shafts  which  rise 
from  floor  to  cornice  do  not  suffice 
to  bring  them  into  unity,  for  their 
relative  proportioning  is  not  good. 
The  triforium  is  too  important  for 
the  pier-arcade;  and  though  the  sin- 
gular clearstorv  windows  are  well 
imagined  for  spaces  of  this  shape,  the 
traceries  which  fill  them  are  boldly 
out  of  scale  with  everything  below  ; 
even  the  ingenious  device  of  repeat- 
ing these  traceries  in  the  spandrels 
of  the  pier-arcade  has  not  wholly 
served  its  purpose.  It  is  common 
in  England  for  the  apexes  of  pier- 
arches  and  triforium-arches  to  touch 
the  string-courses  above  them ;  but 
nowhere  else,  I  think,  is  the  effect  so 
unfortunate  as  at  Lichfield;  nowhere 
else  does  it  seem  to  say  so  plainly 
that  want  of  altitude  cramped  the 
designer's  hand.  Low  as  Lichfield 
is,  it  would  not  appear  so  low  had 

its  walls  been  built  by  a  great  master.  Now  we  are  glad  to  turn  from 
a  thought  of  its  proportions  to  a  study  of  its  lovely  triforium,  the  rich- 
ness of  which  is  in  interesting  contrast  to  the  severity  of  Salisbury's 
features.  Here,  instead  of  merely  moulded  capitals,  we  have  round 
clusters  of  graceful  overhantrina:  foliage,  while  alonsf  the  hollows  of 


SCHEME  OF  THE   NAVE. 


148  Rtiglish  Cathedrals. 

the  arch-mouldings  run  repeated  rows  of  that  dog-tooth  ornament 
which  was  the  happiest  decorative  device  invented  since  the  days 
of  Greece — rows  of  delicate  little  quatrefoiled  pyramids  shining  as 
bright  gleams  of  light  against  the  dark  deep  cuttings  behind  ihcm. 
The  traceried  heads  of  the  triforium-arches  and  of  the  aisle-windows 
suggest  the  character  of  Decorated  as  contrasted  with  Early  English 
Gothic. 

Of  course  no  such  strong  line  separates  the  Decorated  from  the 
Early  English  style  as  divides  the  Early  English  from  the  Norman. 
There  was  no  radical  departure  from  old  constructional  expedients 
when  it  was  born;  it  was  a  natural,  indeed  an  inevitable,  develop- 
ment from  its  forerunner.  The  chief  change  was  in  the  treatment 
of  the  apertures,  single  windows  of  many  integrally  united  parts 
being  substituted  for  groups  of  more  or  less  independent  lancets. 
And  this  change,  as  the  pictures  of  the  windows  of  Salisbury  show, 
had  begun  while  the  Early  English  style  still  ruled.  But,  to  keep  pace 
with  the  greater  richness  of  effect  thus  produced  in  the  apertures,  all 
parts  of  the  construction  were  more  lavishly  and  variously  adorned; 
and  now  the  most  characteristic  medix-val  type  of  sculptured  foliage 
was  evolved.  The  decorative  traditions  of  classic  art.  persistent  all 
through  the  Norman  period,  liad  l)cen  cast  aside  with  t'.ie  birth  of 
Gothic;  but  so  too  now,  in  a  great  degree,  were  the  conventionalizing 
practices  of  Early  English  sculptors.  Instead  of  stiff-leaved  non- 
natural  foliage  we  now  find  a  more  direct  yet  very  artistic  renderings 
of  a  diversity  of  natural  form.s,  usually  studied  from  the  local  flora. 
Figure-sculpture,  too,  now  reached  the  highest  level  it  attained  in 
England ;  but  this  level  was  not  so  high  as  that  attained  in  France, 
and  was  reached  at  a  much  later  day. 

In  constructional  as  well  as  in  ornamental  features  some  devel- 
opment is  also  to  be  noted.  The  piers  are  more  closely,  solidly 
grouped,  the  absolute  isolation  of  minor  shafts  being  abandoned ;  the 
window-area  is  widened  and  the  wall-area  proportionately  decrea.scd  ; 
the  concentration  of  weight  and  thrust  is  carried  somewhat  further  than 
before,  and  the  flying-buttress  is  more  often  used.  But  despite  this 
advance  toward  the  perfect  Gothic  ideal,  it  is  not  completely  achieved: 
height  does  not  increase,  and  individual  parts  are  not  brought  into 
more  organic  relationship.  The  vaulting-shafts  are  still  sometimes 
united  with  the  piers,  but  sometimes  merely  borne  by  corbels ;  and, 
however  they  may  be  supported,  no  keen  feeling  for  architectural  logic 
shows  in  their  design.    They  are  not  subdivided  in  correspondence  with 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.    149 

the  number  of  ribs  that  they  bear,  and  are  not  integrally  united  with 
the  capitals  and  string-courses  through  which  they  pass.  In  England 
mere  taste  seems  to  have  guided  the  treatment  of  these  features,  while 


mm. 

TO,!  H 


THE   NAVE  AND  THE  WEST   END   FROM    WITHIN    THE  CHOIR, 
SHOWING   DECORATED   WINDOW. 


it  is  a  commonplace  to  say  tliat  in  France  the  vaults  "rule  the  construc- 
tion "  from  the  floor  to  the  apex  of  their  own  curves,  making  of  the 
whole  fabric  a  logical  and  complete  constructional  and  aesthetic  unit. 


10* 


150  EtiglisJi  Cathedrals. 


V 

To  follow  the  development  of  the  true  Gothic  traceried  window  from 
the  simple  window  of  the  Normans  is  the  prettiest  of  all  architectural 
problems — the  points  of  starting  and  arriving  lie  so  far  asunder,  yet 
the  steps  between  them  are  so  clear  and  in  retrospect  seem  to  have 
been  so  inevitable. 

Fancy  first  a  plain  tall  window  with  a  round-arched  head; '  then  the 
round  exchanged  for  a  pointed  head;  then  two  of  these  pointed  win- 
dows set  close  together ;  and  then  a  projecting  moulding  in  the  shape 
of  an  arch  drawn  around  them,  including  them  both,  and  thus  including, 
of  necessity,  a  plain  piece  of  wall  above  their  heads.  Then  fancy  this 
piece  of  wall  pierced  with  one  or  more  small  apertures,  and  we  have  a 
group  of  connected  lights  in  which,  as  a  plant  in  its  embryo,  lies  the 
promise  of  all  later  developments.  But  we  have  not  yet  a  true  com- 
pound window — a  single  great  window  of  many  parts  all  vitally  fused 
together.  A  process  of  gradual  accretion  has  brought  its  elements 
together;  a  process  of  gradual  change  in  the  treatment  of  these 
elements  now  does  the  rest  of  the  work. 

The  small  lights  in  the  upper  field  enlarge  and  multiply  until  they 
form  a  connected  pattern  which  fills  its  whole  area,  and  the  jambs  of 
the  main  lights  diminish  into  narrow  strips  or  very  slender  columns. 
The  great  arch,  which  in  the  first  place  merely  encircled  the  windows, 
thus  becomes  itself  the  boundary  of  the  window — of  that  "plate-tra- 
ceried'"-  window  which  was  richly  developed  in  early  French  Gothic, 
but  less  richly  in  English,  owing  to  the  persistent  local  love  for  mere 
groups  of  lancets.  Then  all  the  stonework  shrinks  still  farther — the 
columnar  character  of  the  uprights  is  lost,  and  the  flat  surfaces  between 
the  upper  apertures  change  into  mouldings  of  complex  section.  Thus 
the  original  tall  lights  and  upper  piercings  surrender  their  last  claim  to 
independence ;  the  uprights  are  no  longer  jambs  or  bits  of  wall  but 
mullions,  the  arch-head  is  filled  with  genuine  traceries,  and  all  the  ele- 
ments of  the  design  are  fused  together  within  the  broad  sweep  of  the 
window  to  form  its  multiple  yet  organic  beauty. 

At  first,  simple  geometrical  patterns  were  adhered  to  in  the  traceries: 
such  combinations  of  trefoiled  circles,  for  example,  as  we  see  in  the 
aisle-windows  at  Lichfield    and  on  a  larger  scale    in    the  clearstory- 

1  See  the  cuts  in  Ch-ipter  I.  the  window  — a  flat  surface  pierced  with  apertures  ; 

2This  term  is  unfortunately  compounded.  "Plate"      but   there  are   no  true  "  traceries  "  while  "  plate  " 
clearly  expresses  the  character  of  the  upper  part  of      remains  appropriate. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield. 


i=;i 


windows ;  and  the  integrity  of  the  mouldings  which  formed  each  of 
the  openings  was  strictly  respected.  But  as  time  went  on  "geometri- 
cal "  developed  into  "  flowing  "  tracery.  The  lights  were  multiplied  and 
their  shapes  more  widely  varied  ;  and  the  mouldings  were  given  freer 
play  —  were  treated  as  plastic  strips  which  might  be  bent  in  any  direc- 
tion, and  were  carried  over  and  under  each  other,  so  that  we  may 
choose  a  line  at  the  window-sill,  follow  it  thence  to  the  arch-head,  and 
find  it  forming  part  of  the  boundary  of  several  successive  lights.  This 
was  the  noblest,  most  imaginative,  most  beautiful  period  of  window - 
design,  and  by  gradual  steps  it  passed  into  the  latest,  the  Perpendicu- 
lar period. 

As  we  thus  trace  in  words  the  genesis  of  Gothic  windows,  it  seems 
as  though  the  most  important  step  was  taken  when  the  including  arch 
and  the  pierced  tympanum  were  imagined.  But  when  we  study  all  the 
successive  steps  in  the  stone  itself,  we  find  that  the  step  from  plate  to 
geometrical  tracery  meant  the  most  radical  change ;  for  it  meant  a 
complete  reversal  of  the  conception  of  a  window's  character  considered 
as  a  piece  of  design,  considered  not  for  its  utility  but  for  its  effect  upon 
the  eye.  Originally,  I  may  say,  it  was  the  lights  as  such  which  made 
the  window,  while  later  on  it  was  the  stonework  enframing  the  lights. 
Look  from  the  inside  at  any  early  window  (whether  it  is  quite  simple 
or  has  well-developed  plate-traceries),  and  the  form  of  the  apertures 
will  attract  your  eye :  you  will  not  notice  the  forms  of  the  stonework 
around  them.  But  look  thus  at  a  Decorated  window,  and  your  eye 
will  dwell  upon  the  stonework  itself — upon  the  delicate  lines  of  the 
upright  mullions  and  of  the  circling  mouldings  in  the  head,  joining 
and  parting,  and  projecting  into  slender  points  to  define  the  pattern, — 
and  will  take  small  account  of  the  shape  of  the  apertures  themselves. 
That  is,  in  the  first  case  you  will  see  the  window  as  a  group  of  bright 
spots  upon  the  shadowed  wall,  as  a  pattern  cut  out  in  light  upon  a 
darker  surface ;  but  in  the  second  case  you  will  see  it  as  a  tracery 
of  dark  lines  upon  a  wide  bright  field,  as  a  pattern  done  in  black 
upon  a  lighter  background.  The  difference  is  radical,  for  it  means  a 
difference  not  of  degree  but  of  kind.  To  study  its  genesis,  therefore, 
teaches  us  an  architectural  truth  of  broad  and  deep  significance.  It 
teaches  us  that  a  process  of  slow  gradual  experiment  may  mean  a 
change  from  one  artistic  idea  to  another  of  an  opposite  sort  —  may 
mean  a  revolution  while  appearing  to  be  no  more  than  a  process  of 
development. 


'52 


R)iglisli  Caflicih'als. 


VI 


In  the  transept  of  Lichfield  we  find  beautiful  Lancet-Pointed  work, 
but  so  altered  by  the  insertion  of  great  Perpendicular  windows  that 
the  general  effect  is  hardly  more  the  effect  of  the  earliest  than  of  the 
latest  Gothic  style.  The  lower  portions  of  the  three  choir-bays  next 
the  tower  are  the  oldest  fragments  of  the  cathedral,  remaining  not 


■k.  rriiliiiiljj-  ^ 


wATciiiNc  (;ai.i,ery  over  the  sacristy  door. 


from  the  original  Norman  choir,  but  from  that  later  Transitional  one 
which  was  likewise  swept  away.  Kven  a  l(i\\  bits  of  the  decoration 
of  this  period  still  exist, —  as  in  the  arch  which  leads  from  the  aisle  of 
tlie  north  transept-arm  into  the  adjoining  choir-aisle.  On  the  face 
of  the  arch  toward  the  choir-aisle  there  is  a  large  zigzag  moulding  of 
the  real  Norman  sort ;  the  capitals  of  the  piers  toward  the  transept  are 
of  a  Norman  scallop-sha|)e,  and  the  square  Norman  abacus,  shown  in 
our  picture  of  the  Watching  Gallery,  alternates  very  curiously  with  the 
round  Early  English  form. 

The  design  of  the  late  Decorated  choir  is  wholly  different  from  that 
of  the  early  Decorated  nave.      Instead  of  three  stories  each  of  great 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.     153 


importance,  we  find  two  of  even  greater  importance,  while  the  third 
has  shrunk  to  a  mere  semblance  of  itself.  The  whole  height  is  divided 
almost  equally  between  the  main  arcade  and  a  range  of  vast  clearstory 
windows,  the  triforium-g'allery  being  in  the  strictest  sense  a  gallery  and 
nothing  more  —  an  open  walk 
behind  a  rich  parapet  running 
through  the  thick  piers  between 
the  clearstory  windows.  We 
may  regret  for  its  own  sake  the 
beautiful  triforium  of  the  nave, 
but  considered  in  its  entirety 
the  design  of  the  choir  is  much 
better,  and  is  much  more  ap- 
propriate under  so  low  a  roof. 
The  pier-arcade,  moreover,  is 
finer  than  in  the  nave,  the  clus- 
ters of  shafts  and  the  arch- 
mouldings  beino"  still  more  rich 
and  graceful,  and  the  piers  being 
broad  enough  to  give  room  be- 
tween arch  and  arch  for  sumptu- 
ous corbels  of  colon nettes  which 
bear  great  statues  surmounted 
by  canopies — features  that  we 
find  more  frequently  in  Conti- 
nental than  in  English  churches. 
The  huge  clearstory  windows 
have  very  deep  splayed  jambs 
covered  with  a  lace-like  pattern 
of  quatrefoils,  and  the  original 
flowing  tracery  which  remains 
in  two  of  them  is  very  charm- 
ingly designed.  The  others  are 
filled  with  Perpendicular  tracer- 
ies which  appear  to  have  been 

inserted  long  after  the  true  Perpendicular  period,  when  Hishop 
Hacket  took  his  shattered  church  in  hand.  At  this  time  also  the 
ceiling  of  the  nave  was  in  greater  part  rebuilt.  Just  how  the  work 
was  done  I  can  nowhere  find  recorded;  the  present  sham  vaults  of 
wood  and  plaster  were  the  work  of  Wyatt  in  the  last  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century.      The  cut  at  the  head  of  this  chapter  show^s  the 


SCHEME  UF   THE  CHOIR,   SHOWING   DECORATED 
TRACERIES. 


154 


English  Cathedrals. 


Decorated  arcading  which  ornaments  portions  of  the  walls  in  the  choir- 
aisles,  and  dates  from  about  1325. 


THE  LADY-CHAPEL,   FROM   THE  HIGH  ALTAR 


VII 


But  all  the  while  one  is  examining  the  nave  and  choir  of  Lichfield, 
the  eye  is  irresistibly  drawn  eastward  where  the  Lady-chapel  shines,  a 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield. 


I 


DO 


splendid  great  casket  of  jewels,  at  the  end  of  the  long  dusk  perspective. 
No  east  end  that  we  have  seen  elsewhere  or  shall  subsequently  find 
is  like  this  one,  and  the  difference  is  in  form  as  well  as  in  color.  At 
Peterborough  there  was  a  semicircular  Norman  apse  with  a  lower  later 
construction  dimly  discernible  beyond  it,  and  at  Durham  a  similar  ter- 
minal structure  was  more  plainly  seen  on  account  of  the  removal  of 
the  apse.  At  Salisbury  there  was  a  flat  east  wall,  beneath  the  lower 
arches  of  which  we  saw  into  an  outlying  chapel,  also  rectangular  in 
shape  ;  and  at  Lincoln  and  at  Ely  we  shall  find  a  flat  wall  again,  but 
without  the  chapel.  At  Lichfield  there  is  a  polygonal  termination,  a 
true  Gothic  apse — in  name  a  Lady-chapel  merely,  but  of  equal  height 
with  the  choir  itself  and  forming  to  the  eye  its  actual  end.  This  is  the 
only  cathedral  in  England  which  has  a  Gothic  apse,  and  the  only 
ancient  church  in  England  which  has  one  of  just  this  shape.  At 
Westminster  and  in  one  or  two  smaller  churches  Ave  see  the  French 
chcvet-loxxvi  with  the  choir-aisles  carried  around  the  polygon  to  make 
encircling  chapels.^  But  at  Lichfield  the  German  type  is  followed — 
there  are  no  aisles,  and  a  single  range  of  lofty  windows  absorbs  the 
whole  height,  rising  into  the  curves  of  the  vaulting,  and  filled  with 
geometrical  traceries.'-  This  is  enough  to  surprise  us  and,  as  there  is 
nothing  which  the  tourist  likes  so  well  as  novelty,  to  delight  us  also. 
But  we  marvel  indeed  when  we  see  the  beautiful  glass  with  which  this 
beautiful  apse  is  lined,  and  remember  again  how  Bishop  Hacket  found 
his  church.  In  fact,  these  magnificent  harmonies  of  purple  and  crimson 
and  blue — of  blue,  it  may  better  be  said,  spangled  with  purple  and 
crimson — never  threw  their  lis^ht  on  Engrlish  Catholic,  on  Anglican 
or  Puritan  plunderer,  or  on  Sir  Christopher's  workmen.  While  they 
were  building  and  shattering  and  building  again,  the  glass  upon  which 
Lichfield  now  prides  itself  almost  as  much  as  upon  its  three  stately 
spires  was  adorning  a  quiet  abbey  of  Cistercian  nuns  in  Belgium.  In 
1802,  at  the  dissolution  of  the  abbey,  it  was  purchased  by  Sir  Brooks 
Boothby  (surely  we  should  not  forget  his  name)  and  set  up  at  Lichfield. 
It  is  late  in  date  —  not  earlier  than  1530  —  but  unusually  good  for  its 
time  in  both  design  and  color ;  and  nowhere  in  the  world  could  it 
serve  beauty  better  than  in  just  this  English  church.  The  rich  delicacy, 
the  feminine  loveliness,  of  Lichfield's  interior  needs  such  a  final  jewel 
more  than  does  the  severer  charm  of  most  English  cathedrals.     And 


•& 


1  I  leave  Canterbury  out  of  the  comparison  as  be-      eign  influence  as  having  affected  the  design  of  this 
ing  an  early  French,  not  an  English  construction.  east  end,  yet  it  is  so  exceptional  that  we  must  believe 

2  I  have  been  unable  to  find  any  reference  to  for-      some  such  influence  was  at  work. 


156 


RiigUsli  Catlicdnih. 


THE  SPIRES  OF  LICHFIELD,   FROM  THE  SOUTHWEST. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.     1 5  7 

the  qualities  which  need  its  help,  assist  in  return  its  own  effect;  the 
apse  reveals  it  better  than  a  flat  wall  could,  and  the  color  of  the  whole 
interior,  from  which  all  traces  of  the  ancient  paint  have  been  removed, 
is,  fortunately,  not  the  pale  yellow  or  the  shining  white  we  most  often 
see,  but  a  dull  soft  red  of  very  delightful  tone. 

Thanks  largely  to  this  color,  as  well  as  to  the  apse  and  its  glass,  we 
find  that,  after  all,  we  do  not  much  regret  at  Lichfield  the  grandeur 
of  which  we  dreamed  but  which  failed  to  greet  us.  When  a  church  is 
so  charming,  what  matter  whether  it  looks  like  a  cathedral  church  or 
not  ?  But,  it  must  be  added,  we  should  be  better  content  with  the  in- 
terior of  Lichfield  if  the  destroyer  had  done  his  work  less  well,  and  the 
restorer  had  done  his  a  great  deal  better,  for  much  of  that  richness  which 
looks  like  beauty  at  a  distance  proves  very  poor  stuff  on  near  inspection, 
judged  even  by  restorers'  standards.  This  is  notably  the  case  with  the 
vaulting,  of  course,  and  with  the  statues  in  the  choir ;  and  few  of  the 
monuments  introduced  during  the  last  century  and  a  half  can  be  plea- 
surably  contemplated.  There  is  one  exception,  however — Chantrey's 
famous  group  of  two  sleeping  children. 

The  chapter-house  is  another  beautiful  piece  of  early  Decorated  work 
sadly  marred  by  ruin  and  renewal  ;  it  is  an  elongated  octagon  with  a 
central  column  to  support  its  vaulting,  and  is  connected  with  the  choir 
by  a  well-designed  vestibule.  Above  it  is  the  library,  wholly  stripped 
of  its  contents  in  the  Civil  War,  but  now  filled  again  with  a  goodlv 
assortment  of  treasures,  chief  among  them  being  the  so-called  Gospel 
of  St.  Chad,  a  superb  manuscript  of  Irish  workmanship  which  may 
possibly  be  as  old  as  the  saint's  own  day. 


VIII 

Mr.  Pennell's  pictures  will  show  more  clearly  than  could  words 
the  exterior  look  of  Lichfield  Cathedral.  It  stands  on  somewhat 
higher  ground  than  the  town,  the  dullness  and  insignificance  of  which 
throw  its  beauty  into  bright  relief  Approaching  it  from  one  street  or 
another,  we  see  it  suddenly  across  the  silver  stretches  of  its  Pool,  and 
it  is  hard  to  determine  whether  the  shining  water  at  Lichfield  or  the 
green  lake  of  turf  at  Salisbury  makes  the  lovelier  foreground.  Stand- 
ing on  the  causeway  which  leads  toward  the  western  entrance  of  the 
close,  it  is  not  merely  a  fine  view  that  we  have  before  us;  it  is  a  picture 
so  perfect  that  no  artist  would  ask  a  change  in  one  detail.  Perhaps 
accident  has  had  more  to  do  than  design  with  the  planting  of  the  trees 


158 


Eiwlish  Cathedrals. 


and  shrubs  which  border  the  lake,  and  above  which  spring  the  daring 
spires.  But  a  landscape-gardener  might  study  this  planting  to  his 
profit,  and  when  we  see  or  think  of  Lichfield  from  this  point  of  view 
we  wish  that  the  tall  poplar  may  be  as  long-lived  as  the  tree  Yggdrasil 
—  so  pretty  a  measure  does  it  give  of  the  tallness  of  the  spires,  so 
exquisite  is  the  completing  accent  which  it  brings  into  the  scene. 


iiJpSSks 


Hr^^'^' 


THE  SOUTH   SIDE  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL. 


If  we  come  from  the  southeast,  we  cross  another  causeway  on  either 
side  of  which  the  lake  spreads  out  widely,  and  we  see  not  only  the 
spires  but  the  apse  and  the  long  stretch  of  the  southern  side.  Enor- 
mously long  it  looks ;  longer,  almost,  owing  to  its  peculiar  lowness, 
than  those  cathedrals  which  are  actually  greater;  too  long,  indeed,  for 
true  beauty,  especially  as  the  extent  of  the  choir  throws  the  chiel  tower 
out  of  its  proper  central  position. 

To  the  north  of  the  church  the  ground  rises  quickly  into  a  broad, 
terrace-like  walk  flanked  by  rows  of  large  and  ancient  yet  graceful  lin- 
dens; and  beyond  the  trees,  behind  low  walls  and  verdurous  gardens, 
lies  a  range  of  canons'  dwellings.  The  spot  is  not  very  picturesque  to 
one  who  has  come  from  Canterbury's  precincts  or  from  Peterborough's; 
but  it  is  very  pretty,  with  a  homely,  sober,  shadowy  charm  that  makes 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfield.     159 

a  New-Englander  feel  suddenly  much  at  home.  He  may  almost  fancy 
himself  at  home,  in  fact,  if  he  turns  his  back  on  the  cathedral  and  sees 
only  the  trees  and  the  houses,  and  if  he  knows  so  little  of  trees  as  to  be 
able  to  take  limes  for  elms  or  maples;  for  the  row  of  sedate  square 
dwellings,  and  even  the  deanery  in  the  middle,  are  similar  in  size  and 
form  to  many  in  his  own  older  towns,  and  are  not  more  dignified  in 
aspect.  Indeed,  there  are  certain  streets  in  New  England  which  show 
a  much  statelier  succession  of  homes  than  this  —  than  this,  which  we 
like  all  the  better  because  it  tempts  us  into  drawing  such  comparisons, 


> 


;    if 


1  iT-in»— taai 


DOORWAY  IN  THE  NORTH  TRANSEPT-ARM. 


and  yet  allows  us  to  draw  them  to  our  own  exalting.  There  are  no 
ruined  buildino-s  in  the  neifjhborhood  of  Lichfield  Cathedral.  As  a 
collegiate  establishment  it  had  no  cloisters  or  important  accessory 
structures  to  tempt  King  Henry's  or  Cromwell's  wreckers,  or  to  fall 
into  gradual  decay. 

In  any  and  every  aspect,  but  more  especially  when  foliage  comes 
close  about  it,  Lichfield's  color  assists  its  other  beauties.  Gray  is  the 
rule  in  English  churches — dark  cold  gray  at  Ely,  for  example,  light 
yellow  gray  at  Canterbury,  and  pale  pearly  gray  at  Salisbury;  and 
although   dark   grayness   means   great   solemnity  and   grandeur,   and 


i6o 


ILnglisli  C  \itlicdyals. 


liirht  tjrayness  great  delicacy  and  charm,  they  botli  need  the  hand  of 
time — the  stain  of  the  weather  and  the  web  of  the  lichen  —  to  give 
them  warmth  and  tone;  and  the  work  of  the  hand  of  time  has  almost 
everywhere  in  Knijjland  been  effaced  by  the  hand  of  the  restorer.  Red 
stone  is  warm  and  mellow  in  itself  and  Lichfield  is  red  with  a  beautiful 
soft  ruddiness  that  could  hardly  be  overmatched  by  the  sandstone  of 
anv  land. 


f 


THE  WEST   FRONT. 


A  narrower  e.xamination  of  the  e.xterior  of  the  church  shows  that 
much  beauty  remains,  but  that  much  has  perished  to  be  replaced  by 
imitations  of  a  particularly  futile  and  distressing  sort.  The  Early 
English  door  into  the  north  transept-arm  is  still  intact,  and  is  one  of 
the  most  peculiar  and  lovely  pieces  of  work  in  England,  although, 
perhaps,  the  subordinate  arches  are  somewhat  deficient  in  structural 
accentuation.  Hut  the  similar  door  on  the  south  side  of  the  church 
has  been  much  injured,  and  while  in  design  the  west  front  is  among 
the  best  we  shall  see,  its  present  adornments  are  without  rivalry  the 
worst. 


IHE  CENTRAL   DOORWAY,   WEST   FRONT. 


I  I 


1 62  English  Cathcdmls. 

It  is  a  small  west  front,  but  it  is  a  true  facade  to  the  church,  not 
a  mendacious  screen,  and  its  conception  is  sensible  and  dijjnified. 
We  note  a  want  of  unity  between  the  central  and  the  side  compart- 
ments, and  perceive  that  decoration  rather  than  construction  has  been 
relied  upon  to  j^ive  interest  to  the  lower  portions  of  the  latter.  But  in 
spite  of  the  conspicuous  transept-doors,  these  western  doors  are  the 
main  entrances  to  the  church,  and  they  are  delightful  in  form  and  treat- 
ment; and,  in  admiring  the  towers  and  their  parapets,  we  may  forget 
the  undue  heaviness  of  the  angle-pinnacles.  The  traceries  of  the  great 
window  were  renewed  in  the  seventeenth  century — a  gift  from  King*- 
James  II.;  and  the  big  statue  in  the  gable  portrays  that  very  saintly 
monarch,  the  second  Charles. 

Not  a  single  one  of  the  statues  which  filled  the  multitudinous  niches 
can  be  said  to  remain.  They  were  defaced  by  the  Puritans,  and  most 
of  them  were  removed  in  the  middle  of  the  last  century.  About  1S20 
those  that  survi\cil  were  restored  —  if  once  more  we  may  grossl\-  mis- 
use this  often  misusetl  word.  The  restoration  of  Lichfield's  statues 
meant  that  their  remains  were  overlaid  with  cement  which  was  then 
moulded  into  simulacra  of  human  forms.  For  some  years  past  at- 
tempts have  been  made  to  supplement  these  atrocities  by  better  works; 
but  it  cannot  be  truthfully  reported  that  many  of  the  very  newest, 
even,  are  worthy  of  their  places.  The  present  royal  lady  of  England 
stands  in  a  conspicuous  niche,  portrayed  by  one  of  her  royal  daughters; 
and  this  piece  of  amateur  art  is  not  the  worst  of  the  company. 


IX 

Perii.\ps  the  New  England  tourist  whom  I  have  just  imagined  may 
find  time  to  rest  a  while  on  some  bench  beneath  the  giant  lime-trees 
of  Lichfield,  now  turning  his  back  on  the  canons'  homes  and  his  face 
to  the  church  itself  Perhaps  from  contemplation  he  will  be  led  to  in- 
trospection. Perhaps  he  will  think  over  the  courses  he  has  traveled, 
and  will  weigh  the  changes  in  his  mental  attitude  that  they  have 
brought  about.  Then  it  will  be  strange  if  the  figure  of  the  seven- 
teenth-century Puritan  does  not  surge  u[)  in  his  tiiought,  striking  liim 
with  surprise,  yea,  smiting  him  with  compunction.  Here  is  a  figure, 
t\pifying  much  more  than  itself  which  at  home  he  had  honored  and 
revered.  Patriotic  pride  and  religious  habit  had  joined  to  make  the 
Puritan  seem  as  venerable  as  mighty.  His  faults  and  shortcomings 
were  acknowledged,  but  were   piously  laid  to  the  spirit  of  his  age; 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Chad,  Lichfiehi.     163 

and  his  virtues,  much  greater  than  all  his  faults,  were  as  piously  cred- 
ited to  his  personal  account.  The  work  which  he  had  done  was 
thought  the  noblest,  almost,  that  man  had  ever  done  —  this  breaking 
through  a  dogmatic,  pinching  creed,  this  oversetting  of  a  misused 
tyrant  throne,  this  planting  beyond  the  sea  of  a  greater  common- 
wealth whose  blazon  should  mean  freedom  of  action  in  the  present 
world,  freedom  of  accountability  with  the  world  to  come. 

But  here,  among  these  cathedrals,  what  is  the  Puritan  to  his  descen- 
dant's thought?  A  rude  destroyer  of  things  ancient  and  therefore  to 
be  respected;  a  vandal  devastator  of  things  rare  and  beautiful  and  too 
precious  ever  to  be  replaced;  a  brutal  scoffer,  drinking  at  the  altar, 
firing  his  musket  at  the  figure  of  Christ,  parading  in  priests'  vestments 
through  the  market-place,  stabling  his  horses  amidst  the  handiwork  of 
art  under  the  roof  of  God. 

Yet  if  the  traveler  reflects  a  little  longer  he  may  find  that  he  has  not 
changed  his  convictions,  but  merely  his  emotional  point  of  view.  His 
standpoint  at  home  was  political  and  moral;  here  it  is  artistic.  He  has 
not  really  come  to  feel  that  the  benefits  which  the  Puritan  bought  for 
him  were  bought  at  too  high  a  price.  He  merely  grumbles  because 
he  is  called  upon  to  pay  a  part  of  it  out  of  his  own  pocket — to  pay  in 
loss  of  the  eye's  delight  for  the  struggles  which  made  him  a  freeman. 
But  grumbling  always  grows  by  its  expression,  and,  moreover,  the 
mere  reaction  in  our  feeling  toward  the  Puritan  leads  us  unconsciously 
to  exaggerate  his  crimes.  Surprised  at  first,  then  shocked,  enraged, 
by  the  blood  of  art  which  stains  his  footsteps,  we  lose  our  tempers, 
forget  to  make  judicial  inquiry,  and  may  end  by  crediting  him  with  all 
the  slaughter  that  has  passed.  And  our  injustice  is  fostered  by  the 
wholesale  charges  which  are  brought  against  him  by  the  Anglican 
guardians  of  the  temples  w-here  his  hammer  and  axe  were  plied :  it  is 
less  trying  to  the  soul  of  priest  and  verger  to  abuse  the  alien  Puritan 
than  the  fellow-Anglican  of  the  sixteenth  or  the  eighteenth  century. 
Thus  natural  enemy  and  outraged  friend  unite  in  burdening  the  Puri- 
tan's broad  shoulders  with  a  load  which  in  greater  part  should  be  borne 
by  others. 

I  thought  when  first  writing  these  chapters  that  I  had  avoided  such 
injustice,  though  I  confess  there  were  moments  in  my  English  journey 
when  I  hated  the  Puritan  with  a  godly  hatred,  and  wished  that  he  had 
never  shown  his  surly  face  to  the  world.  I  thought  I  had  explained 
how  much  of  the  ruin  that  we  see  was  wrought  by  the  good  churchmen 
of  Henry  VIII. 's  reign  and  of  Somerset's  protectorate,  how  much  by 


1 64  E)ig/is/i  Cnthciimls. 

the  hideous  neglect  or  wanton  desecration  of  good  churchmen  in  the 
century  before  our  own,  and  how  much  by  the  well-meant  but  inar- 
tistic renovations  of  good  churchmen  in  quite  recent  years.  I  thought 
I  had  made  it  plain  that,  if  we  should  add  all  their  sins  together,  the 
sins  of  the  Puritan  would  seem  small  in  comparison.  But  it  seems  I 
was  mistaken,  for  a  kindly  stranger  wrote  me  from  England  that  I  was 
unjust  to  the  Puritan,  and  even  explained — to  a  descendant  of  New 
England  pioneers  —  that  he  was  in  fact  a  worthy  personage,  thor- 
oughly conscientious  after  his  lights,  and  most  serviceable  to  human- 
ity. I  Ijelievc  this  as  I  believe  in  the  worth  and  value  of  few  other 
human  creatures ;  and  1  hereby  acknowledge  that  artistic  sins  and 
virtues  are  not  those  which  the  recording  angel  will  place  at  the  top 
of  his  tablets  when  he  sums  up  the  acts  of  men  either  as  individuals 
or  as  citizens  of  the  world.  But  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  merely 
human  to  hold  all  points  of  view  at  once,  and  it  is  difficult  for  a  tourist 
to  remember  that  the  artistic  point  of  view  is  not  of  paramount  interest. 
Yet  I  will  try  once  more  to  be  impartial  —  to  give  my  hereditary 
enemy  his  just  meed  of  blame,  and  to  give  no  more  than  his  just  meed 
to  that  honored  sire  whose  sins  I  may  have  exaggerated  just  because 
I  could  not  perceive  them  without  a  feeling  of  personal  abasement.  I 
will  point  out  more  plainh',  for  example,  that  many  of  the  beautiful 
ornaments  of  Lichfield  had  been  shattered  or  removed  by  order  of  the 
early  Anglican  reformers ;  and  that,  although  Puritan  shots  ruined  the 
spire,  it  was  churchmen  who  had  made  the  church  a  castle.  I  will  re- 
peat that  the  breaking  of  the  statues  of  the  front  was  a  minor  injury 
compared  with  their  "restoration,"  and  will  add  that  many  sad  pages 
could  not  describe  what  was  done  by  Anglican  hands  inside  the  church 
—  could  not  tell  of  the  big  pews  that  were  built,  the  coats  of  white- 
wash that  were  roughly  given,  the  chisels  that  were  plied  in  senseless 
alterations,  the  glass  that  was  destroyed,  and  the  birds  that  were  al- 
lowed to  enter  through  the  broken  panes,  to  nest  in  the  sculptured  cap- 
itals, and  to  be  fired  at  with  shots  whose  each  rebound  meant  another 
item  of  beauty  gone.  It  is  a  piteous  chronicle,  read  all  together;  and 
read  all  together,  I  am  glad  and  proud  to  say  once  more,  the  Puritan's 
pages  do  not  seem  the  worst.  If  I  cite  them  more  often  than  the 
others,  it  is  simply  because  they  are  more  picturesque,  more  dramatic, 
more  incisive  in  their  interest.  The  work  of  the  Anglican  ravager  was 
done  gradually,  quiedy,  almost  secretly  —  half  by  inexcusable  act,  half 
by  mere  stupidity  and  neglect.  The  Puritan's  was  done  all  at  once,  in 
pardonable  passion,  and  to  the  sound  of  the  blaring  trumpet  of  war. 


Chapter  \'II 


THK     CATHEDRAL    OF     ST.     MARY 


LINCOLN 


O  man  by  taking  thought  can  add  a  cubit  to  his 
stature,  but  dignity  of  carriage  and  a  master- 
ful air  may  accomplish  many  inches:  —  the 
yardstick  bears  false  witness  to  a  Louis  Qua- 
torze,  a  Napoleon,  or  a  Nelson.  And  as  it  is 
with  men,  so  it  is  with  cities.  Canterbury 
counts  twenty  thousand  souls,  and  looks  small, 
— *  weak,  and  rural.  Lincoln  counts  only  a  few 
thousand  more,  but,  domineering  on  its  hilltop,  makes  so  brave  a  show 
of  municipal  pride,  has  so  truculent  an  expression,  that  no  tourist  thinks 
to  patronize  it  as  a  mere  provincial  town.  It  is  a  city  to  his  eye;  and 
the  greatness  of  its  church  simply  accentuates  the  fact.  Canterbury's 
cathedral  almost  crushes  Canterbury,  asleep  in  its  broad  vale:  and 
Durham's  rock-borne  minster  projects  so  boldly  from  the  town  behind 
it  that  it  still  seems  what  it  really  was  in  early  years  —  at  once  the 
master  of  Durham  and  its  bulwark  against  aggression.  But  Lincoln's 
church,  though  quite  as  imperial  as  the  others,  seems  but  a  proper 
crown  and  finish  for  the  city  which  bears  it  aloft  in  a  close  sturd\- 
grasp.  Like  Durham  Cathedral,  it  stands  on  a  promontory  beneath 
which  runs  a  river.  But  the  hill  is  verv  much  higher,  and  the  town,  in- 
stead  of  spreading  away  behind  the  church,  tumbles  steeply  down  the 
hill  and  far  out  beyond  the  stream.  Here  for  the  first  time  in  England 
we  feel  as  we  almost  always  do  in  Continental  countries ;  we  feel,  not 
that  the  cathedral  church  has  gathered  a  city  together,  but  that  the 
city  has  built  a  cathedral  church  for  its  own  glory  and  profit. 


I\  truth,  the  importance  of  Lincoln  as  a  town  long  antedates  its  im- 
portance as  an  ecclesiastical  centre.     We  cannot  read  far  enough  back 


I  r 


1 66 


English  Cathedrals. 


in  its  history  to  find  a  record  of  its  birth,  for  when  the  Romans  came  a 
British  town  was  already  lying  a  little  to  the  northward  of  the  spot 
on  which  they  pitched  their  camp,  and  which  they  called  Lindum 
Colonia,  fortified  as  one  of  their  chief  stations,  and  made  the  meeting- 
place  of  two  of  their  great  roads.  After  their  departure  and  the 
coming  of  the  English,  Lindum  flourished  again,  and  still  more  con- 


THE   CATHKDKAl.,    fk()\l     IHK    I'OUl 


spicuously  when  the  Danes  took  and  kept  it.  At  the  advent  of  William 
the  Norman  it  was  one  of  the  four  chief  towns  in  England,  ruled  in 
.almost  entire  independence  by  a  Danish  oligarchy  of  twelve  heredi- 
tary "lawmen,"  and  containing  1150  inhabited  houses,  many  of  them 
mansions  according  to  the  standard  of  the  age.  William  came  from 
the  north  after  his  conquest  of  York,  and  probably  entered  by  that 
Roman  gateway  which  still  stands  not  far  from  the  cathedral ;  and 
with  his  coming  began  a  new  and  yet  more  prosperous  era  for  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  167 

town.  In  one  corner  of  the  Roman  inclosure  a  great  Norman  castle 
soon  arose,  and  in  another  corner  the  first  Norman  bishop  laid  the 
foundations  of  a  vast  cathedral  church. 

This  part  of  England  had  received  the  gospel  from  Paulinu.s,  the  fa- 
mous archbishop  of  the  north  whom  we  have  already  met  at  Durham, 
and  it  was  at  first  included  in  the  wide  diocese  of  Lichfield.  In  678  a 
new  see  was  formed,  which  was  called  of  Lindsey  after  the  province,  or 
of  Sidnacester  after  the  episcopal  town  —  probably  the  modern  town 
of  Stow.  Two  years  later  it  was  divided,  another  chair  being  set  up  at 
Leicester.  About  the  year  870  this  chair  was  removed  to  Dorchester, 
and  hither  about  950  the  chair  of  Sidnacester  was  likewise  brought. 
And  when  the  Normans  took  control  the  centre  of  the  united  sees  was 
shifted  again,  Lincoln  being  chosen,  of  course,  for  its  dominant  site 
and  municipal  importance. 

Remigius  was  the  first  Norman  bishop  of  Dorchester,  the  first  bishop 
of  Lincoln;  and  about  the  year  1075,  "in  a  place  strong  and  fair,"  he 
began  "a  strong  and  fair  church  to  the  Virgin  of  virgins,  which  was 
both  pleasant  to  God's  servants  and,  as  the  time  required,  invincible  to 
his  enemies";  and  he  gave  it  in  charge  to  secular  canons,  although  he 
was  himself  a  Benedictine.  It  was  injured  by  a  great  fire  in  1141, 
quickly  repaired  by  Bishop  Alexander  in  a  later  version  of  the  Norman 
style,  and  then  almost  utterly  destroyed  in  1185  by  an  earthquake 
which  "split  it  in  two  from  top  to  bottom."  Nothing  now  remains  of 
the  first  cathedral  of  Lincoln  except  a  portion  of  Remigius's  west  front 
(built  into  the  vast  Early  English  fagade),  and  the  lower  stages  of  the 
western  towers,  which,  like  the  doorways  in  the  front  itself  formed 
part  of  Alexander's  reconstructions. 

Bishop  Hugh  of  Avalon  or  of  Burgundy  —  in  the  calendar,  St.  Hugh 
of  Lincoln  —  began  the  present  church,  building  the  choir,  the  minor 
transept,  and  a  piece  of  the  great  transept ;  and  his  immediate  succes- 
sors, by  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century,  had  completed  this  tran- 
sept, together  with  the  nave,  the  west  fagade  and  its  turrets  and  chapels, 
the  great  Galilee-porch  on  the  southern  side,  the  vestry,  the  chapter- 
house, and  the  two  lower  stories  of  the  central  tower.  These  parts  are 
all  still  the  same,  and  are  all  in  the  Early  English  style.  The  presby- 
tery beyond  the  minor  transept  —  the  famous  Angel  Choir  —  was 
built  between  1255  and  1280,  the  cloister  before  1300,  and  the  upper 
stages  of  the  central  tower  immediately  after,  all  in  the  Decorated  style. 
The  earliest  Perpendicular  manner  —  close  akin  to  the  latest  Decorated 
—  is  revealed  in  the  upper  stories  of  the  western  towers ;  and  in  many 


1 68 


IliiglisJi  CatJiciimls. 


of  the  older  portions  of  the  church  both  Decorated  and  Perpendicular 
windows  were  inserted. 

The  church  of  Lincoln  is  thus  an  interesting  one  to  study  after  we 
have  been  at  Salisbury  ami  Lichtiehl.     At  Salisbury  we  found  a  church 


'  ~]i< 


"*^., 


THE  EXCHKQUF.R  CATK  AND  THE  WEST  FRONT  OF  THE  CATHEUKAL. 


wholly  in  tiie  Early  English  manner  with  a  Decorated  spire.  At  Lich- 
field wc  found  one  almost  wholly  in  the  Decorated  manner  with  an 
Early  English  transept.  .\t  Lincoln  Lancet-Pointed  work  is  again 
preponderant,  but  Decorated  work  is  very  conspicuous  and  singularly 
fine,  Norman  features  still  remain,  and  Perpendicular  art  completes 
the  majestic  whole. 


The  Cathedral  of  Sf.  Mary  —  Lincoln. 


169 


THE  WEST   FRONT.  KROM   THE   MINSTER- VAKD. 


II 

If  the  traveler  is  wise  he  will  not  choose  a  hostelry  in  the  lower  part 
of  the  town,  for  it  is  a  long  walk  thence  to  the  cathedral,  and  a  walk 
that  means  a  climb  up  the  steepest  streets  I  saw  in  England.  Fortu- 
nately there  is  a  very  good  inn  just  beyond  the  cathedral  precincts, 
within  the  precincts  of  the  old  Roman  station.  As  we  leave  its  door 
we  turn  a  corner,  where  a  curious  half-timbered  house  overhangs  the 
street,  and  see  to  the  westward  the  Roman  gate  and  the  Norman  castle, 
and  to  the  eastward  the  Exchequer  Gate,  a  three-storied  structure 
of  the  Decorated  period.  This  admits  us  into  a  small  paved  square 
—  the  Minster-yard — surrounded  on  three  sides  by  low  ecclesiastical 
dwellings.  Filling  the  whole  of  the  fourth  side,  just  in  front  of  us,  rises 
the  enormous  fagade  of  the  church,  peculiarly  English  in  conception, 
and  very  individual  in  its  naive  union  of  Norman  and  Gothic  features. 

The  front  which  remained  after  the  earthquake — with  five  great 
round-arched  recesses  of  graduated  height,  three  of  them  inclosing  low 


I70  English  Cathcilyals. 

round-arched  portals — was  made  the  nucleus  of  the  new  fagade.  Wide 
wings  finished  by  turrets  were  thrown  out  on  each  side  of  it;  a  high 
reach  of  wall  was  built  up  above;  all  were  covered  with  Lancet-Pointed 
arcades  in  close-set  rows;  and  to  bring  a  little  harmony  into  the  effect, 
the  top  of  the  tall  central  recess  was  altered  to  a  pointed  shape  and 
surmounted  by  a  gable. 

What  are  we  to  say  of  such  a  front  as  this  ?  It  is  not  a  design  in  any 
true  sense  of  the  word,  and  we  may  believe  that  it  would  not  have  been 
even  had  the  architect  been  unhampered  by  the  Norman  wall.  Like 
the  contemporary  facade  at  Salisbury,  which  was  built  under  no  con- 
straint, it  is  simply  a  huge  screen,  misrepresenting  the  breadth,  and  still 
more  grossly  the  height,  of  the  church  behind  it ;  and  even  as  a  screen 
it  is  ungraceful  in  outline  and  weak  in  composition;  it  is  elaborately 
decorated,  but  almost  devoid  of  architectural  sinew  and  bone.  When 
we  study  it  on  paper  there  is  only  one  verdict  to  give;  a  very  big  piece 
of  work,  but  a  very  bad  one.  Yet  when  we  stand  in  its  mighty  shadow 
our  indictment  weakens.  Then  we  see  how  hugely  big  it  is,  and  how 
its  bigness  —  its  towering,  frowning,  massive,  and  imperious  air — re- 
deems its  lack  of  dignity  in  design.  We  see  that  its  great  Norman' 
arches  preserve  their  due  importance  despite  the  wide  fields  of  alien 
work  around  tiiem.  We  see  that  although  the  towers  behind  it  have 
no  true  connection  with  its  mass,  they  yet  supplement  that  mass  su- 
perbly. We  see  that  the  endless  repetition  of  similar  niches  is  at  least 
a  successful  decorative  device,  greatly  to  be  preferred  to  such  a  counter- 
feit of  architectural  designing  as  the  blank  windows  of  the  Salisbury 
fagade ;  although  on  paper  they  may  seem  only  to  reveal  a  want  of 
inventive  power,  in  actuality  they  give  a  wonderful  effect  of  repose  com- 
bined with  richness.  In  short,  we  see,  when  face  to  face  with  Lincoln, 
that  there  may  be  such  a  thing  in  architecture  as  triumphant  sin  —  that 
if  a  faulty  piece  of  work  is  only  big  and  bold  enough  it  may  appear 
wholly  grand  and  almost  beautiful.  The  front  of  Lincoln  is  not  a  good 
church-front.  It  is  not  an  organic  composition.  It  is  not  even  a  very 
clever  attempt  to  unite  alien  elements  in  an  harmonious  whole.  But  it  is 
a  splendid  stretch  of  wall,  and  it  gives  the  observer  such  an  emotion  as 
seldom  stirs  him  when  he  views  an  English  cathedral  from  the  west. 
Its  station  adds  to  its  impressiveness.  The  buildings  which  surround 
it  supply  a  scale  by  which  its  immensity  can  be  measured  ;  and  the 
E.xchequer  Gate,  hiding  the  lower  part  as  we  approach,  first  concen- 
trates attention  on  the  upper  part,  and  then,  when  we  pass  beneath 
the  arch,  reveals  the  whole  as  by  the  dramatic  drawing  of  a  curtain. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary — Lincoln. 


171 


III 


Be.n'EATH  the  central  arch  we  enter  a  square  porch  out  of  which  on 
either  hand  opens  another  of  smaller  size.  Lying  under  the  Norman 
towers,  these  porches  are  Norman  in  body  themselves,  but  they  are 


'V^ 


FROM  MURRAY  S  HAND- 
BOOK TO  THE  CATHE- 
DRALS  OF    ENGLAND." 

A,  Norman  recesses  in 
west  front.  B,  C,  D, 
Porches  in  Norman 
front.  E,  Chapels  in 
Early  English  wings. 
F,  Nave.  G.  H.  Cha- 
pels- K,  Crossing  under 
central  tower.  L,  M, 
Great  transept.  N, 
(ialilee-porch  O, 

Choir.  P.  Q,  Choir- 
aisles.  R,  S,  Minor 
(eastern)  transept.  T, 
Retrochoir.  U,  V,  X, 
Chantries.  \V,  South- 
east porch.  Y,  Clois- 
ter. Z,  Chapter-house. 
28,  Vestry.  33,  Vesti- 
bule to  Chapter-house. 
34,  Staircase  to  Library. 


covered  with  Perpendicular  vaults,  lined  with  Perpendicular  carvings, 
and  encumbered  by  eighteenth-century  constructions  which  the  totter- 
ing state  of  the  towers  prescribed.      Beyond  them  lie  large  chapels. 


1  Lincoln  Cathedral  measures  482  feet  in  length  inside  its  walls,  and  222  feet  across  its  major  transept. 
The  chapter-house  is  60  feet  in  diameter  and  40  feet  high. 


172 


Eiiglisli  Cathedmls. 


forming  tlic  l-larl)-  English  wings  of  the  I'agade;  and  behind  these,  but 
with  no  doors  of  connection  between,  are  two  more  chapels,  separated 
from  the  aisles  of  the  nave  by  low  screen-like  walls. 

The  nave  itself  is  more  richly  adorned  than  the  contemporary  Early 
English  nave  at  Salisbury,  and  is  more  majestic  than  the  still  richer 
Decorated  nave  at  Lichfield.  But  its  piers  are  so  widely  spaced,  and 
in  consequence  the  arches  between  llum  are  so  broadly  spread,  llial 
the  effect  of  the  long  perspective  is  a  little  too  open  and  empty,  and 
the  triforium  seems  a  little  too  heavy  by  contrast.  The  lower  stories 
of  the  central  tower  form,  as  usual,  a  lantern  above  the  crossing. 
Built  early  in  the  thirteenth  cenlur_\,  llie)-  almost  immediate])-  lell, 
but  were  reconstructed  before  the  year  1250  in  exact  repetition  ot 
the  first  design. 

The  most  noteworthy  features  in  the  great  transept  are  the  two  rose- 
windows  which,  close  beneath  the  vaulting,  face  each  other  across  its 
length  —  the  "Bishop's  Eye"s]iining'  at  the  soutlurn  end  and  oxer- 
looking  "the  quarter  of  the  Holy  .Spirit  "  to  invite  its  influence,  and 
the  "Dean's  Eye"  shining  at  the  northern  end  and  watching  "the 
region  of  Lucifer"  to  guard  against  iiis  advances.  Except  in  Norman 
work,  circular  windows  are  not  ver)-  common  in  England;  and  when 
we  see  how  lieauliful  are  these  two  Gothic  examples,  and  how  inter- 
esting in  their  contrast,  we  do  not  wonder  tliat  their  fame  is  wide. 

The  Dean's  Eye  is  an  Early  English  window  of  about  1220;  it  is  a 
wheel-window  rather  than  a  rose,  and  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  plate- 
tracery  applied  to  a  round  opening.  The  stonework  is  light  and 
graceful,  but  it  is  a  flat  plate  pierced,  not  an  assemblage  of  curved  and 
moulded  bars;  and  the  design  which  impre.sses  itself  upon  the  eye — 
the  pattern  which  makes  the  window's  beauty  —  is  formed  by  the  aper- 
tures themselves,  not  by  the  stonework  that  surrounds  them.  The 
Bishop's  Eye  dates  from  about  1330,  when  the  Decorated  st)le  was  no 
longer  young  and  had  passed  from  its  geometrical  into  its  flowing 
stage.  In  design  it  does  not  deserve  unstinted  praise,  for  its  shape 
is  not  clearly  enough  confessed  by  the  main  lines  of  the  traceries.  But 
apart  from  this  want  of  perfect  adaptation,  the  traceries  are  very  beau- 
tiful; and  no  one  can  mistake  the  share  they  pla\-  in  the  effect  of  the 
window.  The  jiattern  which  makes  the  beauty  of  this  window  is  not 
encircled  by  the  delicate  bars  of  stone,  but  is  composed  by  these  bars. 
The  plate-tracericd  window,  I  may  say  once  more,  appears  as  a  beau- 
tiful design  done  in  luminous  spots  upon  an  opaque  ground.  The  true 
traceried  window  appears  as  a  beautiful  design  etched  in  black  upon  a 


The  CatJiedyal  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  \  jt^ 

luminous  ground.  Fortunately,  both  the  pattern  in  the  Dean's  win- 
dow and  the  background  in  the  Bishop's  are  still  formed  by  ancient 
glass,  royally  magnificent  in  color. 

The  original  choir-screen — or,  at-  least,  a  rich  and  massive  choir- 
screen  of  the  Decorated  period,  a  veritable  piece  of  wall — still  stands 
between  the  angle-piers  to  the  eastward  of  the  crossing.  Only  when 
we  enter  beneath  its  doorway  is  the  full  glory  of  the  vast  east  limb 
revealed.  Two  distinct  designs  unite  in  harmony  in  this  east  limb  — 
St.  Hugh's  Early  English  design  of  the  choir  proper,  and  the  later 
Decorated  design  of  the  Angel   Choir  beyond  the  minor  transept.^ 


IV 

No  fiercer  architectural  battle  has  ever  been  fought  than  the  one  for 
which  the  choir  of  St.  Hugh  has  supplied  the  field.  The  question  at  issue 
appeals  to  something  more  than  cold  antiquarian  curiosity.  When  it  is 
asked  whether  the  choir  of  Lincoln  may  rightly  be  called  "the  earliest 
piece  of  pure  Gothic  work  in  the  world,"  how  shall  national  pride,  inter- 
national prejudice  and  jealousy,  fail  of  their  effect  upon  the  answer  ? 
In  truth,  they  have  variously  tinged  so  many  different  answers  that  in 
reading  about  this  choir  we  almost  feel  as  though  no  point  in  the  history 
of  mediaeval  art  had  been  accurately  established,  nor  the  relative  value 
of  any  of  its  characteristics  definitely  appraised.  But  it  is  just  this  fact 
which  gives  the  subject  its  interest  for  the  transatlantic  traveler.  He 
might  care  little  about  the  claims  set  up  for  Lincoln  if  they  were  merely 
claims  between  English  church  and  church.  But  it  is  worth  his  while 
to  try  to  understand  them  for  the  sake  of  better  understanding  how  the 
course  of  architectural  development  varied  between  land  and  land. 

Let  us,  therefore,  notice  once  more  how  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen 
built  just  before  the  dawning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  remembering 
always  that  purity  in  Gothic  design  cannot  be  dissevered  from  com- 
pleteness. To  be  purely  Gothic  a  building  must  not  merely  be  free 
from  Romanesque  details;  it  must  not  merely  be  finished  after  the 
Gothic  manner:  it  must  be  conceived  throughout  in  accordance  with 
the  Gothic  ideal ;  it  must  be  built  throughout  in  a  way  unlike  the 
Romanesque  way.^ 


1  .\s  will  be  seen  from  the  plan,  the  ritual  choir  -This  is  VioUet  le-Duc's  summary  of  the  essential 

with  the  high  altar  at  its  eastern  end  is  carried  beyond  qualities  of  Gothic  buildings  as  compared  with  Ro- 

this  transept;  but,  architecturally  speaking,  the  space  manesque :  "  Equilibrium  obtained  in  the  system  of 

beyond  it — the  so-called  .\ngel  Choir  —  forms,  first  construction  by  active  resistances  opposed  to  .-jctive 

the  presljytery,  and  then  the  retrochoir.  forces ;  architectural  etfect,  the  simple  result  of  the 


'74 


English  Catlicdmls. 


'£^h- 


THL  CHOIKSTALLS,  LOOKING  WEST. 


structure  and  the  practical  necessities  of  the  work; 
decoration  derived  simply  from  the  local  flora ;  statu- 
ary tending  to  the  imitation  of  nature  and  seeking 
dramatic  expression."  We  read  so  much  in  English 
books  about  "  pure  "  and  about  "  perfect  "  Gothic, 
and  find  so  many  curiously  partial,  inadequate,  or 


trivial  explanations  of  the  terms,  that  their  true  sig- 
nificance cannot  be  too  frequently  recalled.  It  can- 
not be  too  insistently  said  that  no  Gothic  work  is 
"pure"  in  which  the  Gothic  constructional  ideal  is 
but  half  expressed,  and  that  none  is  "complete" 
which  lacks  the  characteristic  sculpture  of  its  time. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary — Lincoln.  175 

In  the  choir  of  Lincoln  all  the  arches  are  pointed  and  are  defined  by 
a  succession  of  gently  rounded  mouldings.  The  great  piers  of  the 
main  arcade  are  shafted,  and  so,  more  richly,  are  those  in  the  triforium. 
All  the  principal  capitals  have  the  round  abacus,  and  where  it  is  not 
used  we  find  a  polygonal  form.  And  all  the  sculptured  foliage  is  of 
that  true  Early  English  stiff-leaved  kind  which  is  so  entirely  distinct 
from  any  Romanesque  type.  If  this  choir  was  really  built  just  before 
the  year  1200,  it  is  certainly  richer  and  more  purely  Gothic  in  the 
treatment  of  its  details  than  any  contemporary  work  in  France.'  But 
does  this  mean  that  it  is  more  purely  Gothic  in  construction  and  there- 
fore in  general  effect — more  truly  and  distinctively  Gothic  in  concep- 
tion and  feeling  ? 

Let  us  examine  a  little  further.  Although  all  the  arches  are  pointed, 
those  in  the  main  arcade  barely  diverge  from  a  semicircular  line,  and 
the  principal  ones  in  the  triforium  are  only  a  trifle  more  acute;  so,  ex- 
cept for  the  subordinate  triforium-arches,  these  two  stories  might  be 
rebuilt  with  Norman  forms  without  any  change  in  proportions,  any 
variation  in  the  constructional  scheme.  Then,  although  there  is  a 
vaulting-shaft,  starting  from  the  floor,  to  carry  each  group  of  vaulting- 
ribs,  this  shaft  is  single  and  the  ribs  are  five.^  Again,  these  ribs  start 
from  so  low  a  point,  and  the  vault  itself  takes  so  depressed  a  curve, 
that  the  ceiling  seems  rather  to  bear  down  upon  the  church  than  to 
soar  above  it;  its  expression  actually  conflicts  with  the  expression  of 
verticality.  And,  moreover,  some  authorities  say  that  this  vault  was 
not  built  until  after  the  fall  of  the  tower,  and  that  St.  Hugh  had 
constructed  a  flat  wooden  ceiling. 

If,  now,  we  study  by  contrast  the  nave  of  the  cathedral  of  Noyon  in 
France  (which  I  choose  because  it  was  built  some  thirty  years  before 
the  earliest  date  claimed  for  the  choir  of  Lincoln),  we  see  a  very  much 
taller  structure  divided  into  four  stories  instead  of  three,  a  low  uni- 
formly arcaded  story  running  between  the  great  grouped  apertures  of 
the  triforium  and  the  clearstory.  In  the  main  arcade  we  find  simple 
columns  —  which  of  course  are  less  purely  Gothic  than  shafted  piers  — 
alternating  with  true  piers.     But  these  true  piers  are  beautiful  clusters 

1  In  the"71/ii'^«<7  r//r7 .?. //«^('«/,v"  (nimock's  ccli-  above  the  high  aulter."     This  was  written  by  St. 

tion,  1864)   we  read:  "His  church  of  Lincolne  he  Hugh's  chaplain,  and  it   certainly  implies  that  St. 

caused  to  be  new  built  from  the  foundation;  a  great  Hugh  had  finished  his  choir  before  he  died, 
and  memorable  worke  and  not  possible  to  be  per-  2  I  speak  of  the  original  design.     In  later  alter- 

formed  by  him  without  infinite  helpe.  ...  He  died  ations  the  vaulting-shafts  were  cut  away  below  to 

at  London  on  November  17th,  in  the  year  1200.  .  .  .  accommodate  the  stalls,  .ind  corbels  were  introduced 

His  body  was  presently  conveyed  to  Lincolne,  ...  in  the  spandrels  above  the  piers, 
and  buried  in  the  body  of  the  east  part  of  the  church, 


176  English  Cafhcdmls. 

of  sliafts  rising  in  unhrokcn  lines  to  the  base  of  the  clearstory  win- 
dows :  here  their  capitals  arc  on  a  level  with  the  capitals  of  the  vault- 
incf-shafts  which  stand  on  the  intermediate  columns;  these  shafts  are 
in  jrroups  of  three  to  support  three  ribs  in  the  vaultinj^  itself;  and  the 
design  of  the  vaulting  accords  with  the  alternating  character  of  its  sup- 
ports. The  arches  are  treated  in  the  very  simplest  wa)-  with  square 
sections;  and  in  the  litde  arcaded  story  and  the  clearstory  round 
arches  are  employed.  But  all  the  arches  of  the  two  lower  stories  are 
very  acutely  pointed  ;  it  would  be  impossible  to  do  here  what  might 
be  done  at  Lincoln ;  these  stories  could  not  be  rebuilt  with  round 
arches  unless  all  proportions  were  conspicuously  changed  —  unless  the 
whole  design  were  torn  a|iart  and  a  new  one  of  quite  different  charac- 
ter devised.  In  short,  the  constructional  body  is  much  more  truly,  em- 
phatically Gothic  at  Noyon  than  at  Lincoln,  although  the  decorative 
integument  is  much  more  richly  and  harmoniously  developed  at  Lin- 
coln. And  the  superiority  of  earl)-  I'l-ench  work  in  what  we  may  call 
architectural  essentials  is  still  more  manifest  if  we  contrast  St.  Hugh's 
choir  with  structures  of  precisely  the  same  date,  for  in  these  all  the 
arches  are  sharply  pointed,  and  the  arch-mouldings  are  more  highly 
developed  than  at  Noyon. 

If  the  date  and  the  relative  purit\'  of  the  choir  of  Lincoln  have 
supplied  themes  for  endless  discussion,  so  also  has  the  degree  to  which 
it  was  affected  by  French  influence.^  E.xamining  it  for  ourselves,  it 
certainly  seems  partly  French  in  character,  and  we  should  feel  this 
much  more  strongly  could  we  see  its  original  east  end,  for  it  was  fin- 
ished by  an  apse  encircled  by  an  aisle  and  five  chapels — a  character- 
istic F"rench  chcvct.  The  vaulting-shafts  also  seem  foreign  in  idea 
when  we  find  that  they  are  not  reproduced  in  other  parts  of  the 
church,  but  that  in  the  Decorated  Angel  Choir,  as  in  the  Early  English 
nave,  the  shafts  rest  upon  corbels  instead  of  continuing  to  the  ground. 
F"rench,  too,  seem  the  compound  capitals  of  the  great  piers,  despite 
their  characteristically  English  abaci  ;  for,  as  the  initial  cut  of  this 
chapter  shows,  the  part  which  crowns  the  body  of  the  pier  is  much 
deeper  and   more   important    than    those   which   crown    the    attached 

'  It  cannot  be  denied  that  St.  Hugh  was  a  for-  probably  an  Englishman  in  his  art.  .All  English 
eigner  by  birth  anil  training,  or  that  Burgundy  in  critics  seem  to  think  the  choir  strictly  English  in 
his  d.ay  was  well  advance<l  in  the  Gothic  path.  liut  character,  though  a  few  doubt  whether  it  was  en- 
it  is  also  known  that  he  employed  another  as  archi-  tirely  built  by  .St.  Hugh.  Viollet-lc-Duc  likewise 
tect;  and  though  the  name  of  this  architect,  Geof-  declares  for  a  strictly  English  origin,  bat  says  that 
frey  de  Xoyers.is  plainly  French,  it  is  said  that  a  the  year  i20Omust  thereforehaveseen  the  beginning 
family  of  De  Noycrs  had  been  known  in  Lincoln-  rather  than  the  end  of  the  work.  Almost  all  other 
shire  for  generations,  and  that  therefore  he   was  foreign  critics  assert  a  strong  imported  influence. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  ijy 

shafts.  But  this  is  all;  the  rest  of  the  work  is  English,  and  notably 
English  are  those  outer  mouldings  above  the  triforium-arches  which 
end  in  ornamental  bosses.  These  are  drip-mouldings,  devised  to  pro- 
tect external  features  from  trickling  water,  and  it  is  only  in  England 
that  we  find  them  constantly  used  inside  a  building. 

To  sum  up,  I  may  say  that  we  cannot  call  St.  Hugh's  choir  pure 
or  complete  Gothic  if  we  consider  it  in  relation  to  Gothic  art  in 
general  and  test  it  by  the  highest  standard.  But  English  Gothic  art 
never  came  up  to  this  standard.  In  its  proportions  and  in  the  treat- 
ment of  its  main  constructional  features  it  followed  an  ideal  of  its 
own,  and  this  ideal  was  strongly  leavened  by  Romanesque  traditions. 
Therefore,  if  we  consider  St.  Hugh's  choir  only  in  relation  to  subse- 
quent English  work,  if  we  test  it  only  by  an  insular  standard,  it  may 
certainly  be  called  pure  Gothic.  Even  tested  thus,  it  is  not  complete 
Gothic,  for  window-traceries,  with  all  that  they  involved,  still  lay  far 
in  the  future;  but  it  is  astonishing  to  see  how  great  a  measure  of 
completeness  had  been  reached  thus  early  in  other  semi-constructional, 
semi-decorative  features  like  arch-mouldings,  as  well  as  in  strictly  orna- 
mental ones  like  carven  foliage. 


v 

From  the  eastern  face  of  each  arm  of  the  minor  transept,  also  attrib- 
uted to  St.  Hugh,  project  two  small  chapels  which  must  once  have 
grouped  very  charmingly  with  the  chapel-encircled  apse.  But  all 
signs  of  this  apse  have  disappeared,  except  such  as  were  discovered 
when,  some  years  ago,  the  pavement  was  taken  up  for  repairs;  the 
choir  proper  passes,  without  a  conspicuous  break  in  the  design,  into 
the  presbytery,  miscalled  the  Angel  Choir.  Relic-worship,  of  course, 
inspired  this  great  easterly  addition.  As  soon  as  it  was  finished,  in  the 
year  1280,  the  bones  of  St.  Hugh  were  translated  from  their  place  by 
the  high  altar  which  he  had  built,  to  lie  in  greater  state  under  the  new 
roof  and  be  more  accessible  to  his  thronging  supplicants. 

There  is  little  difference  in  constructional  idea  between  this  Deco- 
rated work  and  the  Early  English  work  of  St.  Hugh.  The  nearer 
approach  at  this  period  of  English  art  to  French  was  chiefly  in  the 
matter  of  traceries  and  in  the  general  increase  of  decorative  richness. 
In  the  clearstory,  indeed,  we  have  one  great  subdivided  traceried 
window  instead  of  a  group  of  three  lancets.  But  it  does  not  wholly 
fill  the  wall-space  so  that  its  outer  moulding  combines  with  the  vault- 


17S  Euglish  Cathciiyals. 

iny^-rib  as  a  French  clearstory  window  of  tliis  kind  would;  and  it  is 
thoroughly  English  in  its  two  planes  of  tracery  with  a  passageway 
between  them,  and  glass  in  the  outer  plane  only.  Such  a  treatment  of 
the  clearstory  is  Norman  in  idea,  not  Gothic.  When  ceilings  were 
constructed  of  painted  wood,  the  upper  passageway  was  needed  that 
they  might  be  constantly  watched  and  repaired,  but  with  the  intro- 
duction of  vaults  this  need  disappeared.  P'rench  Gothic  builders, 
trying  more  and  more  to  lighten  their  fabric,  very  soon  dispensed 
with  the  second  wall,  and  built  their  glazed  windows  single  against 
the  sky;  but  it  was  only  in  the  latter  part  of  the  Decorated  period 
that  Englishmen  began  to  do  the  same.  The  drawing  in  the  previous 
chapter  of  the  choir  of  Lichfield  —  built  some  fifty  years  later  than  the 
Angel  Choir  —  shows  a  purely  Gothic  type  of  clearstory  in  contrast 
with  the  Lincoln  type,  which  is  Gothic  in  treatment  but  Romanesque 
in  idea. 

And  it  is  the  same  with  the  triforiuni.  Tlie  great  galleries  which 
Romanesque  art  inherited  from  tiie  old  basilicas  —  as  wide  as  the 
aisles  beneath  them,  and  lighted  hy  windows  in  their  external  walls — 
were  very  soon  abandoned  by  French  Gothic  builders;  the  triforium 
still  showed  an  arcade,  but  its  height  was  diminished,  and,  as  we  see 
in  the  drawing  of  Amiens  on  page  130,  close  behind  it,  separated  from 
it  only  by  a  narrow  passage,  rose  a  wall  which  concealed  the  space  be- 
tween the  vaulting  and  the  outer  roof  of  the  aisle.  But  in  England 
the  old  triforium  scheme  survived  as  long  as  the  old  clearstory  scheme; 
and  the  fact  seems  all  the  more  remarkable  when  we  find  how  rudely 
the  English  galleries  were  ceiled.  Those  in  the  early  Gothic  churches 
of  France  —  as  in  the  cathedral  of  Laon,  which  was  begun  about  the 
middle  of  the  twelfth  century  —  are  vaulted  with  stone  like  the  aisles 
below ;  and  from  the  floor  their  aspect  is  fine  in  itself  and  harmonizes 
with  the  general  effect  of  the  vaulted  structure.  But  in  England  the 
triforium  was  always  ceiled  with  rafters  and  boards,  in  singular  dis- 
regard of  the  barn-like  look  which  was  clearly  apparent  from  the  nave. 
As  Gothic  art  slowly  developed  in  the  island,  the  outer  triforium-wall 
was  .sometimes  suppressed,  the  ceiling  sloping  away  from  above  the 
arcade  to  rest  on  the  cornice  of  the  aisle-wall ;  and  then,  of  course, 
comparative  darkness  somewhat  concealed  the  boards.  But  all 
through  the  Early  English  period,  and  even  in  the  first  part  of  the 
Decorated  period,  the  outer  triforium-windows  most  often  survived; 
and  therefore  the  exterior  of  the  church  presented,  like  a  Norman 
church,  three  successive  series  of  important  windows  —  two  series  in 


TJie  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln. 


1/9 


its  outer  or  aisle-walls,  and  the  clearstory  range  rising  behind  and 
above  them.  There  was  no  general  synchronous  movement  toward 
the  transformation  of  the  triforium  during  all  these  years.     We  may 


0  E^'' 


tmmm 


ONE   BAY   OK  THE  ANGEI,  CHOIR.l 


think  there  was  when  we  find  ofreat  external  triforium-windows  in  St. 
Hugh's  work  at   Lincoln,   but  find   none   in   the   Early  English  nave, 

1  See  also  the  illustralion  on  page  13. 


i8o  £//i^//s//  Cathedrals 


^^' 


which  was  built  a  few  years  later,  and  none  in  the  Decorated  Anj^el 
Choir.  Hut  in  the  early  Decorated  nave  at  Lichfield  we  see  them 
asfain;  and  althous/h  in  the  later  choir  of  the  same  church,  and  in  the 
Decorated  nave  at  York, — which  was  begun  in  1291,  eleven  years 
after  the  Angel  Choir  was  finished, —  the  wide  gallery  itself  has  been 
changed  into  a  mere  ornamental  passageway,  yet  in  the  choir  at 
Ely — which  was  built  after  1350 — we  have  the  old  triforium  scheme 
again,  with  great  apertures  in  both  the  inner  and  the  outer  walls,  and 
we  have  the  old  clearstory  scheme  as  well. 

These  facts  are  worth  particular  notice,  for  they  show  that  archi- 
tectural innovations  at  least  as  important  as  those  which  mark  off  the 
Decorated  period  from  the  Early  English  on  the  one  hand  and  from 
the  Per[jendicular  on  the  other,  were  introduced  in  the  course  of  this 
period  itself.  \\  hen  the  Decorated  style  was  evolved,  subdivided  and 
traceried  windows  took  the  place  of  groups  of  lancets,  and  when  it 
expired  the  whole  decorative  scheme  was  radically  changed.  But 
during  its  lifetime  there  was  a  fundamental  change  in  the  scheme 
of  architectural  design  as  regarded  the  main  walls  of  the  church. 
This  scheme  was  still  further  emphasized  in  the  Perpendicular  period  ; 
but  we  should  not  forgc;t  that  it  originated  in  the  Decoratetl  pcriotl, 
although,  as  the  choir  of  Ely  shows,  it  was  not  then  quite-  universally 
accepted.  The  Perpendicular  nave  at  Winchester  is  the  same  in 
underlying  architectural  idea  as  the  late  Decorated  choir  at  Lichfield, 
but  this  choir  differs  radically  in  idea  from  the  early  Decorated  nave 
in  company  with  whicli  it  stands. 

Thus  we  learn  that  the  true  character  of  buildings  cannot  always 
be  e.xplained  by  a  mere  citation  of  what  are  called  successive  styles. 
And  when  we  note  how  diverse!)-  contemporaneous  English  builders 
not  only  treated  but  conceived  such  important  parts  of  a  church  as 
the  triforium,  the  clearstory,  and  the  west  front,  we  realize  once 
more  how  largely  English  architecture  was  influenced  by  personal 
taste.s,  individual  impulses.  No  French  architect,  working  in  the 
middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  in  one  of  the  most  famous  churches 
of  his  land,  coukl  have  gone  up  the  stream  of  time  as  did  the  Eng- 
lishman who  designed  the  choir  which  we  shall  see  at  Ely. 

At  Lincoln  we  find  for  the  first  time  a  flat  east  end  une.xtended  by  a 
lower  chapel.  No  terminal  chajjcl  was  needed  here,  for  the  cathedral 
itself  was  dedicated  to  Our  Lady,  and  the  chief  local  saint  owned  the 
presbytery  and  retrochoir.  The  east  wall  is  crossed  by  a  low  and  very 
rich  blank  arcade,  and  above  this  is  entirely  filled  by  a  great  window 


1  nc  La  hcdnil  of  St.         i    —  L  incc     .       .  8i 

of  geoin.e    ical  desi'  In  spite  of  iglines..  of  its  mocler*'    jlass, 

the  stately  beauty  oi  its  traceries  is  il...,  and  the  beauty  of  it'  aspect 
when  its  glass  was  good  can  easily  be  fancied.  It  is  a  splendid 
feature,  but  not  a  very  satisfactory  finish  to  the  long  perspective  of 
the  choir;  for,  of  course,  there  is  no  relationship  between  its  forms 
and  those  of  the  three-storied  lateral  walls.  The  earlier  type  of  such 
a  flat  east  end,  which  with  its  ranges  of  lancet-windows  we  shall  see 
at  Ely,  has  more  architectural  excellence,  although  a  less  striking 
charm. 

Within  this  sumptuous  temple,  built  to  do  him  honor,  St.  Hugh 
slept  for  centuries  in  a  fame  and  sanctity  greater  than  those  which 
enwrapped  any  saint  in  an  English  tomb,  excepting  only  St.  Thomas 
of  Canterbury.  To-day  we  look  for  his  sepulchre  in  vain.  Yet  the 
allied  besoms  of  destruction  and  restoration  have  passed  with  com- 
parative lightness  over  Lincoln.  Many  other  splendid  tombs  and 
chantries  are  preserved,  often  with  much  of  their  sculptured  adorn- 
ment intact.  The  choir  is  encircled  by  Decorated  stalls,  beautifully 
carved  and  strikingly  effective.  The  reredos  also  dates  from  the 
Decorated  period,  although  it  has  been  painfully  restored.  The  blank 
arcades  in  the  aisles  seem  surprisingly  rich,  even  after  one  has  seen 
those  in  the  Nine  Altars  at  Durham.  Tall  screens  of  iron  tracery, 
lovely  and  yet  vigorous  as  only  hammered  ironwork  can  be,  shut  oft" 
the  arms  of  the  minor  transept  from  the  choir.  Architectural  carving 
is  everywhere  profuse  and  often  of  exceptional  beauty;  and  the  figures 
in  the  triforium-spandrels,  which  have  given  the  Angel  Choir  its 
popular  name,  are  of  unique  importance  in  English  interior  decora- 
tion. The  effect  of  all  this  lavish  adornment  is  greatly  increased  by 
the  diversified  plan  of  the  structure,  which  at  every  step  gives  varying 
lights  and  shadows,  new  combinations  of  form,  fresh  perspectives  with 
fresh  accords  and  contrasts;  and  altogether  the  east  limb  of  Lincoln 
dwells  in  my  mind  as  more  richly  pictorial  in  effect  than  any  part  of 
any  other  English  cathedral  that  I  saw. 


VI 

But  it  is  only  when  we  pass  outside  the  church  again  and  make  its 
mighty  circuit  that  the  full  value  of  its  varied  plan  and  its  rich  adorn- 
ment is  made  plain.  In  any  e.xternal  view  Lincoln  is  perhaps  the 
finest  of  English  cathedrals ;  and  it  is  certainly  the  most  beautiful  and 
the  most  interesting  when  studied  foot  by  foot  under  the  shadow  of  its 

I  2* 


l82 


Engiish  Cathedrals. 


,\'«»*'f- 


THE  CENTRAL  TOWER  AND  THE  GALILEE-PORCH. 

walls.  It  is  much  the  most  ornate;  and,  although  it  is  more  varied 
in  outline  and  feature  than  Canterbury  itself,  yet,  except  for  its  west 
front,  it  makes  the  effect  of  an  organic  architectural  composition. 

Even  the  west  front  is  extremely  interesting  in  detail,  especially  in 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  183 

its  Norman  portions ;  and  when  we  turn  its  southern  shoulder  beauty 
and  charm  increase  with  every  step.  First  we  see  the  flanks  of  the 
Norman  towers,  and,  on  a  line  with  them,  the  low  Early  English 
chapels ;  and  then,  set  considerably  back,  the  long  stretch  of  nave  with 
lancet-windows  and  small  flying-buttresses,  a  delicate  arcade  above  the 
clearstory,  and  over  this  an  open  parapet  bearing  great  canopied 
niches  of  the  Decorated  period.  Then  comes  the  side  of  the  transept 
with  the  Galilee-porch  in  bold  projection  —  richly  shafted,  beautifully 
vaulted,  and  peculiar  by  reason  of  its  cruciform  plan;  then  the  tran- 
sept-end where  the  Bishop's  Eye  looks  out  beneath  a  lofty  gable; 
then  a  deep  and  shadowy  recess  between  this  greater  and  the  lesser 
transept;  then  the  projecting  vestry,  the  gabled  front  of  the  lesser 
transept  with  its  beautiful  lancet-groups,  and  another  recess  varied  by 
the  polygonal  faces  of  the  little  lowly  chapels ;  and  then  the  buttresses 
and  the  traceried  windows  of  the  Angel  Choir  rising  over  a  great  pin- 
nacled porch  and  two  Perpendicular  chantries.  Carven  ornament  has 
been  growing  more  and  more  profuse  as  we  have  passed  thus  east- 
ward from  the  earlier  to  the  later  work ;  and  here  in  this  southeastern 
porch  the  climax  is  reached.  There  is  no  other  large  porch  in  a  simi- 
lar situation  in  England,  and,  I  think,  no  porch  at  all  which  is  so  ornate 
in  design. 

Nor  is  there  any  falling  off  in  beauty  of  general  effect  when  we  look 
from  the  east  at  the  end  of  the  church  and  the  polygonal  chapter- 
house beyond.  We  may  prefer  the  treatment  of  some  other  east  end, 
granting  that  here  the  upper  window  (which  lights  the  space  between 
the  vaulting  and  the  high-pitched  outer  roof)  is  so  large  that  it  in- 
jures the  effect  of  the  principal  window,  and  that  the  aisle-gables  are 
shams,  representing  nothing  behind  them ;  and  we  may  prefer  the 
construction  of  some  other  chapter-house,  confessing  that  the  but- 
tresses of  this  one  show  too  clearly  that  they  are  later  additions  which 
merely  rest  against  its  walls.  But  the  group  as  a  whole  is  very  fine ; 
and  when  we  stand  a  little  way  off  to  the  southeast,  so  that  it  forms 
a  single  picture  with  the  perspective  of  the  whole  south  side,  then 
indeed  we  see  a  splendid  architectural  composition. 

Although  the  vaulted  ceilings  of  Lincoln  are  very  low,  its  outer 
roofs,  in  the  six  arms  formed  by  nave  and  choir  and  transepts,  are 
unusually  high  and  steep ;  and,  beautifully  supported  by  the  lesser 
roofs — lower  in  varying  degree  —  of  the  many  chapels,  aisles,  and 
porches,  they  as  beautifully  support  the  three  tall  towers.  Far  off  to 
the  westward  rise  the  sturdy  Norman  pair  with  their  tlelicate   early 


1 84 


Fjig/is/i  Caf/icdra/s 


Perpendicular  tops,  harmonizing'  finel\'  with  tlnir  y^reatcr  brother — that 
central  tower  which  is  the  crown  in  beauty  as  in  constructional  impor- 
tance   of  the   whole    magnificent    pile.     This    late  Decorated    central 


^  ■  -^  ^^^;^ .••■'^^>-. '*^^-;,.»^\.  '^. - 


THE  SOUTH-EAST   PORCH. 


tower  of  Lincoln  has  but  two  real  rivals,  the  Perpendicular  central 
towers  of  Canterbury  and  Gloucester.  It  was  Iniilt  to  bear  a  lofty 
wooden  spire  while  they  were  intended  to  be  spireless ;  nevertheless, 
in  its  present  condition  it  is  almost  as  fine  as  its  rivals  in  outline,  and 
almost  as  complete  in  expression,  while  in  beauty  of  feature  and  en- 
richment it  is  quite  beyond  compare. 

Even  at    Lincoln   a  green   environment  is  not  altogether  wanting. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln. 


185 


Along  the  south  side  of  the  churcli  runs  a  border  of  grass  with  a  street 
beyond  it,  and  then  the  low  wall  of  the  Vicar's  Court.  To  the  east- 
ward the  grass  stretches  out  into  a  lawn,  again  with  a  street  as  its 
boundary;  and  to  the  northward  chapter-house  and  cloister  look  on  a 
broader  reach  of  turf 

When  a  cathedral  chapter  was  monastic  its  many  buildings  were 
usually  grouped  on  the  south  side  of  the  church,  the  cloister  was  en- 
tered from  the  nave-aisle,  and  the  chapter-house  opened  from  one  of 
its  walks.  But  when  the  chapter  was  secular  the  chapter-house  w^as 
the  only  building  really  required ;  and  then  it  was  placed  to  the  north- 


THE  EAST  END   AND  THE  CHAPTER-HOUSE. 


ward  of  the  choir  and  was  approached  from  the  choir-aisle.  The 
chapter-house  at  Lincoln  holds  the  true  collegiate  position,  but  it  is 
associated  with  a  cloister  which,  like  the  one  at  Salisbury,  we  may 
fairly  assert  to  have  been  at  all  times  pretty  nearly  what  it  is  to-day — 
a   piece   ot   mere  architectural  lu.xury.      Doubtless   more   priests  once 


1 86  E)igiis/i  Cathedrals. 

trod  its  arcaded  walks  than  tread  them  now,  but  such  walks  were  not 
really  needed  by  priests  who  did  not  live  in  common. 

To  my  mind  this  seemed  the  finest  chapter-house  in  England,  sur- 
passing in  beauty  of  proportions  and  treatment  even  the  similar  po- 
lygonal council-rooms  at  Salisliury,  Westminster,  and  Wells.  It  is  a 
decagon  in  shape, while  they  are  octagons;  and,  although  their  great 
traceried  windows  are  more  sumptuous  in  effect,  the  coupled  lancets 
which  here  fill  every  face  except  the  one  that  opens  by  its  whole 
breadth  into  the  stately  vestibule,  seem  more  appropriate  in  scale  and 
expression  to  a  room  only  sixty  feet  in  diameter.  A  beautiful  blank 
arcade  runs  around  the  wall  above  the  canons'  bench;  fine  vaulting- 
shafts  rise  between  small  blank  lancets  in  each  of  the  ten  angles ;  the 
central  pier  is  surrounded  by  ten  marble  shafts,  and  the  vaults  which 
all  these  shafts  sustain  are  singularly  charming  in  form.  In  so  small  a 
structure,  moreover,  we  do  not  object  to  the  fact  that  the  pier-shafts 
are  wholly  separate  from  the  body  of  the  pier  which  they  surround, 
although  when  they  are  thus  placed  about  a  great  church-pier  they 
seem  to  lack  that  air  of  concentrated  strength  and  organic  relationship 
which  is  the  essence  of  good  Gothic  design.  But  beautifully  as  this 
chapter-house  was  built,  it  cannot  have  been  very  well  built;  for  it 
soon  requirc^d  the  assistance  of  the  flying-buttresses  which  are  now  so 
conspicuous  in  an  external  view. 

Three  walks  of  the  cloister  still  stand  in  their  original  Decorated 
shape,  but  the  north  walk,  with  the  library  above  it,  was  burned  in 
the  seventeenth  century  and  reconstructed  by  Sir  Christopher  \\"ren. 
Here  he  employed  his  own  Renaissance  style  instead  of  imitating 
Gothic  architects  as  he  did  at  Lichfield.  Of  course  his  work  is  out 
of  harmony  with  ever)  thing  else,  and  it  is  not  very  good  in  itself; 
yet  we  cannot  possibly  wish  it  away,  for  it  adds  to  the  historic  inter- 
est of  a  richly  historic  spot.  Where  the  cloister  stands  once  ran  the 
wall  of  the  Roman  station,  and  within  it  are  preserved  some  fragments 
of  a  tessellated  Roman  floor.  Beginning,  therefore,  with  these  frag- 
ments, running  the  eye  over  the  huge  and  varied  body  of  the  church, 
and  then  coming  back  to  Sir  Christopher's  work,  we  find  signs  and 
symbols  of  almost  all  the  generations  which  make  England's  glory 
when  we  reckon  it  by  treasures  of  art.  There  is  only  one  great  gap: 
no  sign  or  token  appears  of  that  sturdy  race  of  Englishmen  who  had 
their  Church  of  Mary  here  between  the  going  of  the  Roman  and  the 
coming  of  the  Norman.  Saxons  or  Anglo-Saxons  we  may  choose  to 
call  them:   but  we  know  that  they  were  the  first  Englishmen,  and  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mayy  —  Lincoln. 


187 


r^v^^----^^ 


THE  CATHEDRAL,   FROM   THE  HIGH  STREET. 


1 88  Ktiglisli  Cathcdmh. 

only  Englishmen  of  pure  undiluted  English  blood.  If  names  were 
always  given  in  accordance  w'ith  facts,  it  is  their  primitive,  ante- 
Norman,  round-arched  work  that  we  should  call  Early  English,  not 
the  Lancet-Pointed  work  of  those  thirteenth-century  Finglishmcn 
whose  blood  was  tinged  with  a  strong  Norman  strain. 


VII 

Bit  if  no  relics  of  the  first  phase  of  English  art  remain  in  or  about 
Lincoln  Cathedral,  down  in  the  town  of  Lincoln  we  may  find  them. 
Here  in  the  valley  stand  two  tall  church-towers  built  in  the  primitive 
round-arched  style  which  the  Norman  style  displaced ;  and  they  were 
among  the  very  last  works  in  this  style,  for  they  were  erected  by  a 
colony  of  Englishmen  from  the  upper  town  after  Norman  architects 
had  there  besrun  the  huefe  cathedral  church. 

Xor  are  these  the  only  relics  of  remote  antiquity  in  the  low  valley 
streets  and  steep  hillside  streets  of  Lincoln.  The  trace  of  the 
Roman  is  everywhere  —  not  merely  in  excavated  l)its  of  pavement 
and  carving,  but  in  the  great  Newport  Gate  near  castle  and  cathe- 
dral, in  the  lines  of  the  far-stretching  highways,  and  in  the  twelve 
miles  of  canal  called  the  I-'oss  Dyke,  which,  connecting  the  William 
and  the  Trent,  still  serve  the  needs  of  commerce.  And  the  trace  of 
the  Norman  is  yet  more  conspicuous — not  only  in  hilltop  church  and 
castle,  but  in  several  dwellings  on  the  steepest  streets.  All  of  these 
are  still  in  use,  and  the  traditional  name  of  one,  the  Jew's  House, 
records  the  fact  that  in  the  twelfth  century  few  men  excepting  Jews 
could  dwell  in  habitations  of  hewn  and  carven  stone.  Timbers  shel- 
tered the  Christian  citizen  ;  only  God  and  his  priests  and  the  Hebrew 
pariah  could  afford  the  costlier  material. 

In  mediaeval  Lincoln,  as  in  mediaeval  York,  the  Jews  played  a  con- 
spicuous and  sometimes  a  martyr-like  role.  But  the  tale  of  their  per- 
secution in  the  fourteenth  century  is  only  one  among  many  dramatic 
chapters  in  Lincoln's  history  which  I  have  no  time  to  tell. 

The  diocese  was  immense  and  very  wealthy,  even  after  the  Nor- 
mans set  off  Cambridgeshire  to  form  the  diocese  of  Ely  ;  for  l:)e- 
sides  its  present  territory  it  included,  until  the  Reformation,  what 
are  now  the  sees  of  Peterborough  and  Oxford ;  and  the  size  and 
strength  of  the  episcopal  city,  and  its  situation  in  the  centre  of  Eng- 
land on  the  highroad  to  the  north,  helped  to  insure  the  perma- 
nence  of   its   early   fame.       Whether  we  look   at  its  burghers'  record 


The  Catlicdml  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  189 

or  its  bishops',  there  is   never   an  age  when   great   names    or   deeds 
are    lacking. 

Here,  for  example,  King  Stephen  was  defeated  and  imprisoned  in 
1 141;  here  was  a  focus  of  conflict  in  the  critical  reign  of  King  John, 
and  again  in  the  early  tempestuous  years  of  King  Henry  III.;  here 
was  a  Royalist  defense,  a  Parliamentary  siege  and  triumph,  in  1644; 
and  always  the  burghers  as  a  body  were  more  influential  actors  than 
has  often  been  the  case  on  English  soil. 

Among  the  bishops  who  held  sway  at  Lincoln,  the  first  was  Remi- 
gfius,  the  cathedral  founder;  the  next  was  Robert  Bloet,  the  chancellor 
of  William  Rufus,  who  was  called  akin  in  nature  to  his  patron,  and  was 
thought  to  be  rightly  punished  when  "his  sowle,  with  other  walking 
spretes,"  was  compelled  to  haunt  the  cathedral  aisles;  and  the  next 
was  Alexander,  who  repaired  the  church  of  Remigius,  and,  although 
"called  a  bishop,  was  a  man  of  vast  pomp  and  great  boldness  and 
audacity,"  and  "gave  himself  up  to  military  affairs"  in  the  wars  of 
Stephen.  Then,  after  a  long  interregnum,  came  one  who  was  never 
consecrated  but  enjoyed  the  temporalities  of  the  see  for  seven  years — 
Geoffrey  Plantagenet,  the  illegitimate  son  of  Henry  H.  From  1186 
to  1200  ruled  St.  Hugh,  the  builder,  who  was  perfect,  we  are  told,  in 
his  private  life,  and  a  model  bishop  before  the  world.  .Another  Hugh, 
who  came  from  Wells,  soon  followed  him,  and  then,  m  12,35,  Robert 
Grosseteste,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  and  most  conspicuous  men 
of  the  time  —  a  scholar,  a  builder,  a  stern  disciplinarian  in  his  dio- 
cese, and  a  bold-fronted  upholder  of  the  rights  of  the  English  Church 
against  the  king  on  the  one  hand  and  the  pope  on  the  other.  Thus 
the  list  runs  on,  often  a  great  name  and  never  one  that  is  quite  with- 
out meaning,  until,  in  the  year  1395,  we  reach  Henry  Beaufort,  after- 
ward Bishop  of  Winchester  and  a  cardinal  of  Rome,  immortalized  in 
a  rather  unjust  way  by  Shakspere's  hand.  He  was  followed  by 
Philip  of  Repingdon,  at  first  an  outspoken  Wickliffite,  then  a  truck- 
ling recanter,  and,  in  consequence,  a  priest  whom  princes  delighted 
to  honor.  And  next  we  come  to  Richard  Fleming,  and  to  still  more 
vivid  memories  of  the  great  early  Reformer ;  it  was  Fleming,  as  the 
executive  of  the  Council  of  Constance,  who  performed  the  famous  act 
of  which,  in  its  results,  the  poet  says: 

The  Avon  to  the  Severn  runs, 

The  Severn  to  the  sea. 
And  Wickhffe's  dust  shall  spread  abroad, 

Wide  as  the  waters  be. 


igo 


JSiig/is/i  (  atlicdnih. 


Here  at  Lincoln,  coming  from  llic  chair  of  Rochester,  sat  John  Rus- 
sell, who  played  an  important  political  part  just  before  Henry  \'II. 
gained  the  throne ;  and  here  for  a  twelvemonth,  before  he  went  to 
York  and  became  a  cardinal,  sat  Henry  V  III.'s  ill-used  great  servant, 
Wolsey.  After  the  Reformation,  bishops  of  political  fame  everywhere 
grew  fewer,  but  the  Lincoln  succession  kept  well  to  the  front  in  the 
more  peaceful  walks  of  intellectual  life,   and   it  furnished  man)'  arch- 


ON   THE  BANKS   OK  THE   Wn'HA^L 


bishops  to  the  neighboring  chair  at  York.  An  honored  name  occurs 
in  our  own  day — the  name  of  Christopher  Wordsworth,  who  was  first 
canon  and  archdeacon  at  Westminster,  and  who  died  as  Bishop  of 
Lincoln  in  1885.  And  now,  as  Peter  Heylyn  wrote  in  the  seven- 
teenth century,  "  for  the  dignity  of  this  seat  we  will  add  but  this,  that 
it  hath  yielded  to  the  Church  three  saints,  and  to  Rome  one  Cardinal; 
unto  the  Realm  of  England  six  Lord  Chancellors,  and  one  Lord  Trea- 
surer, and  one  Lord  Keeper;    four  Chancellors  to  the  University  of 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  191 

Oxford,  two  to  Cambridge ;  and  that  the  Bishops  here,  were  hereto- 
fore Vice-Chancellors  to  the  See  of  Canterbury." 


VIII 

The  remains  of  the  chief  ecclesiastical  buildings  at  Lincoln  are  not 
very  many  or  very  interesting,  but  the  fact  is  scarcely  noticed,  Lincoln 
the  church  and  Lincoln  the  secular  town  have  so  much  else  to  show  us. 

The  episcopal  palace,  which  stood  to  the  southward  of  the  cathedral 
on  the  brink  of  the  hill,  was  founded,  as  nearly  as  history  tells,  by 
Bishop  Bloet  in  the  early  part  of  the  twelfth  century.  I  believe  that 
no  signs  of  his  Norman  work  can  now  be  traced ;  but  fragments  sur- 
vive of  the  great  hall  of  the  palace  which  was  begun  by  St.  Hugh  and 
finished  by  his  successor.  Bishop  William  of  Blois,  and  the  next  prelate, 
that  second  Bishop  Hugh  who  is  called  Hugh  of  Wells  and  who  died 
in  1235.  An  ancient  kitchen  also  exists,  and  a  gateway-tower,  restored 
in  our  own  day  by  Bishop  Wordsworth  to  be  used  as  lecture-rooms  by 
the  students  of  the  local  theological  school.  Wlien  intact  the  palace 
must  have  been  a  large  and  splendid  pile,  but  neglect  began  with 
the  establishment  of  the  Reformation,  and  deliberate  destruction  with 
the  Parliamentar\-  War.  The  deanery  stood  to  the  northward  of  the 
church,  and  likewise  fell  a  victim  to  Puritan  ravage.  A  few  fragments 
of  its  walls  survive,  with  an  old  chimney,  and  some  bits  of  sculpture, 
housed  in  a  modern  conservator)-. 

The  present  deanery  was  built  about  forty-five  years  ago.  But  the 
voice  of  elder  times  speaks  from  the  present  chancery,  in  w^hich  the 
chancellors  of  the  see  have  lived  since  the  early  fourteenth  century. 
Although  its  great  dining-hall  was  torn  down  soon  after  the  year  i  700, 
three  arches  of  the  original  foundation  remain,  with  an  upper  chapel, 
containing  an  ancient  carved  screen,  and  an  adjoining  room.  And  the 
red-brick  front  of  the  house,  with  a  projecting  oriel  of  stone,  was  built 
just  before  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century.  In  the  modernized 
subdeanery  one  may  see  a  late  Gothic  oriel  window.  More  inter- 
esting, however,  than  these  survivals  of  old-time  magnificence,  is  the 
Vicar's  Court,  a  beautiful  large  garden -like  inclosure  lying  to  the 
southward  of  the  cathedral  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  east  of  the  site 
of  the  palace.  One  of  its  sides  is  formed  by  a  high  wall,  shutting  it 
off  from  the  street  which  separates  it  from  the  church,  and  the  other 
three  sides  by  domestic  buildings.  It  was  begun  by  Bishop  Sutton, 
who  died  in  1299,  and  finished  by  Bishop  Alnwick  half  a  century  later. 


192 


English  C  'atlicdyah 


One  house  on  the  southern  sicU-,  a  fine  example  of  late  Decorated 
work,  is  very  well  preserved,  while  the  others  have  been  largely  mod- 
ernized, but  not  to  the  obliteration  of  all  their  picturesque  details. 
And  in  a  certain  corner  we  can  find  bits  of  the  crenelated  wall  which 
once  entirely  surrounded  the  cathedral  close. 


THE  SOUTH    SU)K  OF   THE   CATHEDRAL. 


LookiiiLj  up  Ironi  the  Vicar's  Court  in  suinmer,  a  mass  of  foliage 
conceals  the  greater  part  of  the  body  of  the  cathedral ;  but  the  tall 
transept- fronts  show  clearly,  and  the  long  roof-lines,  and  above  them 
the  central  tower,  at  just  the  right  distance  for  the  majesty  of  its  form 
and  the  loveliness  of  its  features  to  be  equally  apparent.  This,  I 
thought,  is  the  most  beautiful  if  not  the  most  impressive  view  which 
one  can  get  of  the  mighty  church  :  and  more  impressive,  while  almost 
as  beautiful,  is  the  one  that  the  last  of  our  pictures  shows,  where,  stand- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Mary  —  Lincoln.  \  93 

ing  in  the  street  further  down  the  hill,  we  see  all  the  towers  and  roof- 
lines,  and  a  portion  of  the  ornate  walls  as  well. 

But  with  a  cathedral  that  stands  like  Lincoln's,  one  does  not  need 
to  select  one's  points  of  view.  The  difficulty  would  be  to  find  a  place 
above  the  horizon  where  it  would  lose  its  majestic  air. 

Thomas  Fuller  declares  in  his  "Worthies"  that  the  south  side  of 
Lincoln  "meets  the  travellers  thereunto  twenty  miles  off,  so  that  their 
eyes  are  there  many  hours  before  their  feet."  We  count  by  minutes 
to-day  where  Fuller  counted  by  hours,  yet  they  must  be  dull  eyes  to 
which  Lincoln  does  not  speak  with  entrancing  power  as  the  railroad 
crosses  the  flat  wolds  toward  the  base  of  the  roof-piled  hill,  and  as  this 
draws  ever  nearer  and  nearer,  tremendously  crowned  but  not  crushed 
by  its  three-towered  church,  until  the  encircling  river  lies  in  the  im- 
mediate foreground,  and  then  at  last  the  church  shows  paramount  when 
the  rail  is  left  and  the  climbing,  twisting  streets  are  mounted. 

Durham  is  Lincoln's  only  English  rival  in  dignity  of  site;  and 
though  more  beauty  combines  with  majesty  in  the  site  of  Durham,  the 
scale  is  turned,  perhaps,  in  Lincoln's  favor  by  the  greater  intrinsic 
charm  of  its  church.  Durham  Cathedral  is  grand,  imposing,  tremen- 
dous ;  but  Lincoln  is  all  this  and  very  beautiful  as  well.  No  other 
English  cathedral  has  so  strong  yet  so  graceful  a  sky-line,  and  no 
other  so  fine  a  group  of  spireless  towers.  Individually  each  tower 
may  be  equaled  elsewhere,  but  together  they  are  matchless.  Not 
even  the  knowledge  that  they  once  bore  spires  hurts  their  air  of  per- 
fect fitness  to  the  church  they  finish  and  the  site  they  crown.  And 
even  as  regards  this  site  we  may  feel  that  while  the  woods  and  the 
castle  make  Durham  infinitely  picturesque,  Lincoln's  loftier  perch 
and  closer  union  with  the  town  give  it  the  nobler  air.  But  com- 
parisons are  futile.  Durham  stands  superbly  in  front  of  its  city ; 
Lincoln  stands  superbly  above  its  city ;  each  is  unrivaled  in  its  own 
way,  and  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  try  to  decide  which  way 
is  finer. 


13 


CHAI'TI'k     \'III 


THE      CATHHDkAI.      OF      ST.     ETIIELUREDA 
ST.    PETER ELY 


AND 


HARDLY  dare  to  say  that  the  Httle  town  of 
Ely  and  its  great  cathedral  church  stand  upon 
a  hill,  so  certain  is  the  word  to  convey  too 
large  an  image.  Nowhere  but  in  this  wide, 
low,  and  monotonous  fen-country  could  it  he 
applied  to  so  slight  and  gradual  a  rise  in  the 
ground.  Only  the  sea  is  broader,  flatter,  more 
uniform  than  the  fen-lands  —  only  the  sea  from 
whose  inroads  and  saturations  they  were  so  slowly  and  painfully  re- 
claimed. In  elder  days  the  ships  of  the  Northman  or  the  Norman 
could  come  up  nearly  to  the  base  of  the  church,  and  the  River  Ouse 
was  merely  the  largest  of  many  wa.xing  and  waning  streams  which 
wound  their  sluggish  tides  through  pools  and  bogs  and  marshes. 
Now  most  of  the  wide  quagmires  arc  cultivated  fields,  but  the  fen- 
country  and  the  Isle  of  Ely  are  still  names  in  current  use,  and  the 
imagination  can  easily  reconstruct  a  landscape  where  they  were  literally 
appropriate. 


If  the  railway  brings  us  northward  from  Caml)ridge,  we  follow  al- 
most the  line  of  that  old  Roman  Akeman  Street  which  must  have  been 
a  causeway  rather  than  a  road  through  a  great  part  of  its  length.  This 
approach  to  Ely  is  too  direct  for  the  cathedral  to  be  seen  until  we  have 
almost  reached  it.  But  if  we  come  westward  from  Norwich,  it  looms 
up  on  the  horizon  as  a  great  solitary  ship  looms  up  at  sea.  As  we 
draw  nearer  it  preserves  its  isolated  clearness  of  outline,  lifted  visibly 
above  the  plain,  yet  so  little  lifted  that  its  bulk  seems  all  the  greater 
from  being  very  near  the  eye.  As  w^e  leave  the  station  by  the  Ouse 
and  drive  into  the  town,  still  the  church  appears  to  grow  in  size.     It  is 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  FJheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.    195 

one  of  the  lary^est  and  most  imposing  in  England,  while  the  town  is 
quite  the  smallest  that  is  dignified  by  the  name  of  a  cathedral  city. 
The  census  gives  Ely  seven  thousand  inhabitants,  but  it  seems  a  mys- 
tery where  even  so  many  as  this  can  live.  A  short  and  narrow  main 
street  with  three  or  four  others  opening  out  of  it ;  a  little  market-place; 


i^^k-*il( 


^...m^;^^ 


:.-\V 


ACROSS  THE   FENS. 


one  mediaeval  church  in  addition  to  the  cathedral ;  the  usual  ecclesias- 
tical dwellings,  and  an  adjacent  grammar-school ;  a  pretty,  ancient 
group  of  almshouses ;  a  few  windmills ;  and  then  the  limitless  low 
plain  with  sparsely  scattered  modest  suburban  homes, —  there  is  no 
more  than  this  at  Ely.  All  the  houses  are  built  of  stone,  but  are  low 
and  simple,  and  few  have  any  touch  of  that  quaint  picturesqueness  for 
which  we  always  hope  in  England.  Nothing,  indeed,  could  seem  more 
un-English  to  the  foreigner's  fancy  than  the  fen-country  as  a  whole, 
with  its  flat  dull-colored  fields,  its  open  monotonous  highways,  its  lack 
of  clustering  trees  and  flowers  and  vines.     At  Ely  only  the  cathedral 


196 


J'j/i[/is//    (  aflicdrals. 


precincts   match   with    the    foreij^ner's   idea  of"  how   an    KngHsh    scene 
should  look. 

But  thoui^h  it  is  so  little  and  plain  and  s^ray,  Ely  is  a  neat,  bright, 
cheerful  i)iace,  with  the  most  spotless  inn   that  ever  went  by  the  spot- 


^1 


IHK    WEST    FRONT    OK    IHK   CATHEDRAL    AND     I  UK    KISHOFS    PALACE. 


less  name  of  "The  Lamb."  And  we  would  not  have  it  bigger  or 
braver  lest  the  church's  look  of  supremacy  should  be  impaired.  Any- 
thing very  fine  is  sure  to  seem  the  finest  thing  in  all  the  world  when 
we  first  behold  it.  Ignoring  Lincoln  and  Durham,  we  decide  when 
we  first  see  Ely  that  this  was  the  proper  way  to  place  a  mighty 
church.  We  are  glad  that  nature  did  not  build  a  pedestal  to  support 
it,  but,  instead,  entirely  suppressed  herself  that  there  might  be  no 
scale  by  which  to  compute  the  immeasurable  dignity  of  men's  achieve- 
ment. And  we  are  glad  that  lesser  men  built  so  few  lesser  structures 
near  these  giant  walls.  The  town  of  Ely  is  large  enough  to  surround 
the  church  with  an  air  of  happy  human  companionship,  and  that  is 
all  we  ask.  This  air  is  increased,  moreover,  by  the  unusually  intimate 
way  in  which  church  and  town  are  grouped.     There  is  a  wide-spread- 


The  Cathcdyal  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.    197 

ing  close  on  every  side  of  the  cathedral;  but  on  the  west  side  it  is 
crossed  by  a  street  on  which  the  main  porch  of  the  cathedral  opens,  as 
it  so  often  does  in  continental  towns.  Across  the  street,  however,  the 
close  stretches  away  in  true  English  fashion  as  a  wide  triangular  lawn, 
bordered  by  great  trees  and  on  one  side  by  the  bishop's  palace,  while 
to  the  south  and  east  and  north  of  the  church  greensward  and  foliage 
reign  undisturbed. 

Though  the  town  of  Ely  has  always  been  thus  insignificant,  its 
name  has  had  a  mighty  sound  in  English  history,  and  not  merely  as 
the  name  of  those  who  chanced  to  sit  in  its  cathedral  chair.  The 
chair  itself  was  exceptionally  powerful.  No  English  see  except 
Durham  was  granted  a  temporal  authority  as  great  as  Ely's;  and 
almost  all  its  bishops,  all  through  the  Catholic  centuries,  were  among 
the  foremost  of  prelates  and  statesmen. 


II 

Such  a  region  as  the  fen-country  offered  peculiar  attractions  to 
the  founders  of  monasteries.  Long  before  the  invasion  of  the  Danes 
it  rivaled,  in  both  the  number  and  the  sanctity  of  its  "houses,"  even 
that  far  southwestern  district  where  similar  natural  conditions  favored 
the  monastic  life,  and  where  Glastonbury's  house  was  chief  among 
so  many.  Thorney,  Ramsey,  Peterborough,  Crowland,  and  Ely  were 
only  the  wealthiest  and  most  populous  of  the  eastern  monasteries. 
Ely  was  one  of  the  first  of  them  to  be  established,  and  one  of  the 
earliest  to  arrive  at  greatness,  its  founder  being  a  saint  of  very  wide 
renown.  Etheldreda,  a  princess  of  the  East-Anglian  line,  had  from 
childhood  a  leaning  toward  the  religious  life,  and  so  we  are  not  sur- 
prised to  find  that  her  life  with  two  successive  husbands  was  a  little 
stormy.  The  first  gave  her  the  Isle  of  Ely  by  way  of  dower.  Hither, 
aided  by  many  miracles,  she  finally  succeeded  in  escaping  from  the 
second,  King  Egfrid  of  Northumbria;  and  here,  in  the  year  673, 
she  founded  a  home  for  ecclesiastics  of  both  sexes,  and  was  herself 
installed  as  abbess. 

When,  two  centuries  later,  the  Danish  rovers  arrived,  the  holy  folk 
who  dwelt  beneath  St.  Etheldreda's  roof  were  scattered  and  slain 
like  the  "merry  monks  of  Croyland  "  and  of  Peterborougli.  A  small 
body  of  secular  clergy  was  soon  installed  in  their  stead,  but  the  place 
had  little  importance  for  a  hundred  years.  Then  it  was  restored  to 
greatness  by  the  same  hands  which  at  the  same  time  were  restoring 


igS  English  Cathedrals. 

Peterborough.  Here  also  a  large  body  of  Benedictines  was  settled  by 
Dunstan,  and  King  Edgar's  piety  was  lavishly  expressed. 

Ely  now  rapidly  grew  again  in  wealth  and  power  until  its  abbots 
were  thought  worthy  to  alternate  with  those  of  Glastonbury  and  of 
St.  Augustine's  at  Canterbury  in  holding  the  high  office  of  Chancel- 
lors at  court.  Canute  seems  to  have  taken  it  under  his  special  pro- 
tection, and  modern  children  still  learn  the  verse  he  improvised  when 
he  heard  the  monkish  chanting  from  his  boat  upon  the  Ouse.*  Most 
of  the  talcs  which  profess  to  explain  the  tragic  fate  of  his  stepson, 
Alfred,  point  to  Ely  as  the  place  of  the  boy's  confinement,  blinding, 
death,  and  burial.  On  the  altar  of  Ely  Edward  the  Confessor  was 
presented  as  an  infant,  and  within  its  walls  he  spent  some  of  his 
childish  years. 

When  the  land  was  torn  by  insurrections  against  the  Conqueror's 
new-gained  power,  Ely  became  conspicuous  in  a  military  way.  From 
1066  to  107 1  the  Isle  was  the  best  stronghold  of  the  English,  being  so 
easy  to  defend  and  so  difficult  to  approach  through  its  treacherous 
watery  surroundings.  Here  was  that  famous  Camp  of  Refuge  which, 
under  the  rule  of  Herew^ard  and  of  Abbot  Thurston,  made  a  last  long 
desperate  resistance  to  the  Norman.  Only  William's  advent  in  per- 
son brought  about  its  capture  in  107 1  ;  and  only  when  it  was  cap- 
tured was  his  hold  upon  his  new  realm  so  well  secured  that  he  could 
venture  upon  a  visit  to  his  old  realm  across  the  straits.  Most  of  the 
defenders  of  the  Camp  were  taken  and  executed.  But  Thurston  made 
his  peace  with  William,  and  Hereward  seems  to  have  escaped.  There 
are  numerous  vague  and  contradictory  tales  about  his  after  career, 
but  he  vanished  out  of  even  half-authentic  history  at  the  taking  of  the 
Isle  of  Ely. 

The  monastery  itself  was  not  disturbed  by  William,  and  ten  years 
later  Simeon,  its  Norman  abbot,  began  the  construction  of  a  new 
and  larger  abbey-church. 

The  site  of  this  new  church  —  which  gradually  grew  into  the 
building  of  to-day  —  was  chosen  a  little  to  the  eastward  of  the  Old 
English  structure.     We  do  not  know  how  much  actual  work  was  done 

1  This,  1  believe,  is  the  earliest  extant  version  of  Canute's  words,  written  down  some  two  centuries 

later  than  his  day: 

"  Merie  sungen  the  Muneches  binnen  Ely 
Tha  Cnut  ching  rew  ther  by. 
Rowe  ye  cnites  noer  the  lant, 
.•\nd  here  we  thes  Muneches  sseng." 


The  Cathedyal  of  St.  Etiiehireda  and  St.  Peter — Illy.    199 

by  Simeon.  But  choir  and  transept  and  central  tower  were  complete 
in  the  time  of  his  successor  Richard,  who,  in  1 106,  removed  the  bodies 
of  St.  Etheldreda  and  of  three  other  canonized  abbesses,  her  relatives, 
from  the  old  church  to  the  new.  At  about  the  same  time,  in  the  reign 
of  Henry  I.,  the  bishopric  of  Ely  was  created  and  the  abbey-church 
became  a  cathedral. 

In  later  Norman  days  the  nave  was  built.     As  the  Norman  style 
was  passing  into  the  Early  English  the  western  end  was  constructed 


lliL    UUSt. 


with  a  single  great  tower  in  the  centre  of  the  facade,  and  spreading 
transept-wings  and  turrets.  When  the  Early  English  style  was  in  its 
full  development  a  Galilee-porch  was  built  out  in  front  of  the  west 
door,  and  the  east  limb  was  pulled  down  and  greatly  enlarged.  About 
a  hundred  years  later,  in  1322,  the  central  tower  fell,  carrying  with 
it  the  three  adjacent  bays  of  this  new  choir.  Reconstruction  was 
begun  in  the  same  year  (the  Decorated  style  being  now  in  use),  and 


joo  E)ii^/is/i  Cathedrals. 


was  finished  soon  after  the  middle  of  the  century,  by  which  time  a 
wholly  new  Lady-chapel  had  also  been  completed.  A  large  chantry 
was  built  into  the  eastern  end  of  one  choir-aisle  in  1500,  and  another 
into  the  corresponding  end  of  the  opposite  aisle  in  1550.  Both  of 
these,  of  course,  are  in  the  Perpendicular  style,  and  the  second  is  in 
its  latest  phase  where  Renaissance  details  are  intermixed  with  Gothic. 
.\11  the  periods  of  mediaeval  architecture  may  thus  be  studied  some- 
where in  Ely's  mighty  frame ;  and  its  major  parts  are  so  diversely 
dated  that,  in  a  series  of  cathedrals  where  only  Salisbury  can  be  called 
a  homogeneous  structure,  Ely  stands  out  as  the  most  varied  ot  any. 
Yet,  as  its  Perpendicular  features  are  inconspicuous  and  its  Early  Eng- 
lish and  Decorated  portions  are  the  most  interesting,  it  seems  natu- 
rally to  claim  our  notice  as  soon  as  Lincoln  has  been  described. 


HI 


The  Galilee-porch  is  forty-three  feet  in  depth.  With  its  rich  outer 
and  inner  portals,  its  capitals  carved  with  delicate  curling  leafage,  its 
side  arcades  in  doubled  rows  of  trefoiled  arches,  and  the  profuse  dog- 
tooth enrichment  of  its  mouldings,  it  is  one  of  the  loveliest  things  that 
were  ever  built,  and  one  of  the  most  English  in  its  loveliness.  Vet 
less  than  a  century  ago  an  Englishman  who  was  pleased  to  call  himself 
an  architect  and  a  restorer  advised  its  destruction,  together  with  that 
of  the  western  transept,  saying  that  they  were  things  "neither  useful 
nor  ornamental  and  not  worth  preserving." 

When  we  have  passed  the  inner  doorway  of  this  porch,  we  find  our- 
selves in  another  vestibule,  beneath  the  western  tower.  Double  tiers 
of  richly  arcaded  galleries  run  around  it,  and  to  the  south  the  transept 
stretches  out  with  a  chapel  in  its  easterly  face.  The  northern  arm  of 
the  transept  is  gone,  as  our  view  of  the  west  front  shows.  There  is  no 
record  to  tell  when  or  why  it  perished  ;  but  it  cannot  have  stood  more 
than  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  at  longest,  for  there  are  signs  which 
prove  that  its  reconstruction  was  attempted  in  the  Decorated  period. 

All  the  work  in  this  western  end  is  very  rich — Transitional  below, 
pure  Early  English  above,  the  one  style  passing  into  the  other  very 
naturally,  and  pointed  arches  succeeding  semicircles  without  a  hint  of 
discord. 

There  could  not  be  a  better  place  than  this  to  recall  an  important 
fact  already  learned  elsewhere.  No  piece  of  work  in  England  more 
clearlv  shows  that,  distinct  as  full-grown  architectural  styles  may  seem, 


The  Catliedml  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.   201 

they  were  united  by  periods  of  transition  whose  results  cannot  really 
be  accredited  to  either  the  dying  or  the  nascent  manner.  Sometimes 
the  constructional  scheme  is  in  advance  of  the  decorative  scheme,  while 
sometimes  treatment  is  in  advance  of  conception,  and  sometimes  they 
feel  their  way  hand  in  hand.  But  in  all  cases  each  change  in  style 
progresses  by  gradual,  tentative  steps.  Looking  back,  it  may  seem  to 
us  as  though  these  steps  were  inevitable,  and  so  in  a  sense  they  were; 
for  there  is  an  innate  potency  in  every  vital  form  of  architectural  art 
which  leads  men  on  to  experiment  with  its  elements  and  develop  its 
possibilities  until,  this  potency  exhausted,  the  art  dies  a  natural  death 
and  is  replaced  by  some  other  way  of  building.  But  as  each  tentative 
step  was  taken,  it  must  have  seemed  very  bold  and  uncalled  for  to  the 
eyes  of  simple  spectators ;  and  even  those  who  were  taking  it  can 
have  had  no  prophetic  knowledge  of  whither  it  eventually  would  lead. 
Doubtless,  as  each  innovation  was  established,  the  innovators  thought 
that  now,  at  last,  architectural  development  was  complete,  architec- 
tural perfection  was  attained.  Doubtless  the  man  who  built  the  west 
front  at  Ely  felt  that  he  was  building  as  all  men  would  have  to  build 
so  long  as  great  church-fronts  should  be  wanted.  Could  we  bring  him 
back  to  earth  to-day,  the  later  manifestations  of  the  Pointed  manner 
would  surprise  him  as  much  as  they  would  surprise  a  resuscitated 
Norman  architect  who  had  worked  in  utter  ignorance  of  the  value 
of  the  pointed  arch. 

Through  the  great  inner  portal  of  this  vestibule — lowered  and 
widened  by  Perpendicular  alterations — we  see  the  long  perspective 
of  the  Norman  nave.  Again,  as  at  Peterborough,  we  are  struck  by 
the  contrast  between  its  huge  severity  and  the  graceful  richness  of  the 
Transitional  work  which  we  are  leaving  behind  us.  Here,  indeed,  the 
contrast  is  even  greater;  for  the  vestibule  is  still  richer  than  the  one  at 
Peterborough,  and  the  nave  is  still  simpler.  It  is  a  little  less  heavy 
and  stern  in  effect,  owing  to  the  slenderer  proportions  of  the  triforium, 
but  it  shows  even  less  embellishment.  The  capitals  arc  boldly  fluted, 
and  a  sing^le  line  of  hatched  ornament  defines  the  triforium  strinsf- 
course.  But  this  is  all ;  there  is  not  even  a  ziarzaif  on  the  bior  round 
mouldings  of  the  arches.  It  is  not  quite  so  fine  a  nave  as  Peter- 
borough's. It  has  the  same  grandeur,  solemnity,  and  repose,  but  the 
open  character  of  the  triforium  makes  it  seem  a  little  empty;  it  is 
less  admirable  in  the  proportioning  of  its  solids  to  its  voids ;  and 
somehow  the  effect  of  tunnel-like  extension  is  even  more  striking 
than   in   the  sister  church. 


202 


Eiig/is/i  Cathedrals. 


SCHEME  OF  THE  PRESBYTERY  AND 
RETROCHOIR. 


The  main  transept  —  all  that  is 
left  of  the  first  two  abbots'  work  — 
has  an  aisle  on  either  side,  and 
resembles  the  nave  in  desif^m;  but 
arcaded  galleries  running  along 
each  of  its  ends  give  these  por- 
tions a  richer  aspect. 

Next  in  order  we  should  look, 
not  at  the  Decorated  work  in  the 
crossing  and  in  the  three  contigu- 
ous bays  of  the  choir,  but  at  the 
more  easterly  bays  and  the  east 
end  of  the  church.  These  parts, 
forming  the  presbytery  and  retro- 
choir,  were  not  injured  by  the  fall- 
ing of  the  tower  in  1322,  and  they 
display  the  Early  English  style  in 
its  fullest  and  richest  development. 
The  scheme  of  design  is  the  same 
as  at  Salisbury ;  but  the  propor- 
tioning of  parts  is  much  better,  and 
sculptured  decoration,  wholly  want- 
ing at  Salisbury,  is  lavishly  but 
very  intelligently  applied.  The 
bays  are  narrower  than  at  Salis- 
bury or  Lincoln,  and,  in  conse- 
quence, the  height  of  the  ceiling 
being  about  the  same,  all  the  arches 
are  more  sharply  pointed  and  much 
more  graceful,  and  the  general 
effect  is  at  once  more  harmonious 
and  more  aspiring.  The  long  rich 
cones  which  form  the  corbels  are 
inserted  between  the  pier-arches 
and  connected  with  the  triforium 
string-course,  while  the  bases  of 
the  vaulting-shafts  which  rest  upon 
them  are  also  thus  connected ;  and 
the  capitals  of  these  shafts,  bearing 
the  vaulting-ribs,    arc    united  with 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.    203 

the  clearstory  string-course ;  and  thus  the  effect  is  as  thoroughly 
constructional  as  could  be  compassed  where  vaulting-shafts  do  not 
actually  descend  to  the  floor.  The  capitals  are  among  the  finest  of 
their  type ;  and  the  leafy  patterns  in  the  recesses  between  the 
grouped  shafts  of  triforium  and  clearstory,  the  rows  of  the  dog- 
tooth in  the  hollows  of  the  arch-mouldings,  the  trefoils  and  cusps  of 
the  small  triforium-arches,  the  sunk  quatrefoils  and  lovely  bosses  of 
foliage  in  the  tympana  above  them,  and  the  trefoils  in  the  lower 
spandrels — all  these  decorations  are  as  exquisite  in  themselves  as 
conducive  to  the  general  beauty  of  the  work.  Not  another  item  of 
ornament  could  be  added,  yet  there  is  not  an  item  too  much,  and  each 
assists  the  true  architectural  significance  of  the  feature  which  it  adorns. 
It  is  here,  rather  than  to  Salisbury  or  even  to  either  of  the  Early  Eng- 
lish portions  of  Lincoln,  that  one  should  look  if  he  would  see  the  full 
meaning,  the  full  charm  of  the  Lancet-Pointed  style.  If  he  puts  French 
Gothic  ideals  out  of  mind,  and  accepts  the  English  Gothic  ideal  as 
something  quite  distinct  in  aim  and  feeling,  he  can  admire  this  part 
of  Ely  almost  as  heartily  as  those  chapels,  porches,  and  chapter-houses 
where,  more  often  than  in  the  body  of  a  great  church,  English  archi- 
tecture achieved  its  very  best.  To  me  this  seemed  the  most  perfect 
piece  of  Early  English  work  that  I  saw  in  the  body  of  any  cathedral, 
and  I  thought  it  hardly  equaled  in  charm  and  true  excellence  by  any 
corresponding  work  in  any  other  style. 

At  Salisbury,  as  we  know,  the  east  end  of  the  choir  shows  three 
superimposed  ranges  of  lancets,  the  upper  two  treated  as  windows,  and 
the  other  admitting  the  eye  to  the  low-roofed  Lady-chapel  beyond. 
But  at  Ely,  where  the  Lady-chapel  was  placed  elsewhere,  there  are 
only  two  ranges  of  lancets,  and  both  are  composed  of  windows.  Be- 
low, three  very  tall  windows  rise  to  an  equal  height,  with  sunken 
quatrefoils  in  the  spandrels  between  their  heads ;  and  above  are  five 
narrower  lights  decreasing  in  size,  beneath  the  curve  of  the  vaulting, 
from  the  centre  toward  the  sides  of  the  group.  Here,  as  in  the  clear- 
story which  we  have  just  examined,  there  is  an  outer  and  an  inner 
wall,  the  lancets  in  the  former  being  the  true  windows,  and  those  in 
the  latter  composing  an  unglazed  arcade.  But  neither  here  nor  in 
the  clearstory  do  the  two  groups  correspond  as  regards  their  lateral 
members.  In  the  east  end  there  was  room  enough  outside  to  develop 
the  five  apertures  symmetrically ;  but  inside,  the  shaft  next  the  vault 
on  either  hand  is  unduly  shortened  by  its  impingement,  and  the  side 
of  the  lancet-head  is  correspondingly  lengthened,  and  is  broken  into 


204  English  CatJtcdnih. 

successive  curves  to  fit  it  iiUi)  its  place.  The  expedient  is  shown  in 
the  drawing  of  the  lateral  walls  on  p.  202,  as  well  as  in  the  cut  of  a 
portion  of  one  of  the  clearstory  bays  which  forms  the  initial  to  this 
chapter;  but  its  effect  is  much  more  striking  in  the  east  end,  owing  to 
the  larger  scale  of  the  work.  At  the  first  glance  we  are  tempted  to 
applaud  the  spirit  of  men  who  could  so  frankly  confess  that  they  had 
met  with  a  difficulty;  but  our  mood  changes  when  we  remember  tliat 
they  made  the  difficulty  for  themselves.  Of  course,  it  would  not  be 
easy  for  us  to  say  how,  with  these  features  and  these  proportions,  they 
could  have  designed  to  better  advantage ;  but  we  may  confess  that  we 
are  not  artists,  and  yet  venture  to  criticize  the  work  of  those  who  were; 
and  when  we  see  how  often  lancet-groups  are  treated  in  this  manner  in 
England,  we  feel  that  Englishmen  were  indeed  not  deeply  enamored 
of  constructional  perfection.  In  France  such  a  makeshift  for  true  har- 
mony between  feature  and  feature  would  hardly  have  been  tolerated 
w'hen  Gothic  art  was  half  a  century  old. 


IV 

Next  in  chronological  sequence  comes  the  lantern  which,  with  the 
support  prepared  to  bear  it,  forms  the  great  feature  of  Ely. 

When  the  tower  fell  in  1322,  the  Early  English  style  had  long  been 
dead,  and  the  Decorated  style  was  in  its  second  phase :  geometrical 
had  given  place  to  flowing  patterns  in  the  traceries  of  the  windows 
which  now  filled  ahnost  the  whole  space  once  occupied  by  walls,  and 
of  course  in  all  minor  analogous  features.  John  Hotham  was  then 
bishop  at  Ely,  John  of  Crawden  was  the  prior  of  the  convent,  and  its 
subprior,  and  afterward  its  sacrist,  was  one  Alan  of  Walsingham. 
Reconstruction  was  immediately  begun,  a  large  part  of  the  cost  being 
borne  by  the  convent,  and  the  bishop,  who  died  in  1337,  bequeathing 
great  sums  to  complete  it.  But  to-day  we  scarcely  think  of  bishop  or 
prior,  or  of  the  devoted  monks  as  a  body,  for  Alan  of  Walsingham 
was  their  architect,  and  to  him  belongs  the  credit  for  the  freshest  and 
finest  architectural  idea  that  ever  took  shape  on  English  soil.  Here, 
as  in  the  portico  of  Peterborough,  no  precedent  was  followed;  but  at 
Peterborough  we  cannot  heartily  praise  the  novel  conception  and  we 
are  not  sure  that  it  was  an  Englishman's,  while  at  Ely  the  conception 
is  as  noble  as  it  is  indisputably  English. 

A  glance  at  our  ground-plan  will  show  its  character.  Walsingham 
did  not  rebuild  in  their  original  places  the  four  great  angle-piers  which 


TJte  Cathedral  of  St.  Etiieldreda  and  St.  Peter —  Ely.   205 


had  sustained  the  tower,  and  conn 
parallel  with  the  main  walls  of  the 
tral  alleys.  He  swept  away  the 
remains  of  the  old  piers,  and 
built  eight  angle-piers  instead 
of  four;  and  for  this  purpose  he 
altered  and  strengthened  the 
last  piers  of  the  arcades  which, 
in  each  of  the  arms  of  the 
church,  separated  the  central 
alley  from  its  aisles.  Fortu- 
nately, the  transept  at  Ely  was 
two-aisled  like  nave  and  choir; 
for,  of  course,  had  it  been  one- 
aisled,  as  was  frequent  in  Nor- 
man cathedrals,  only  an  unsym- 
metrical  hexagon  could  have 
resulted  from  Walsingham's 
idea.  The  space  he  actually 
created  was  a  symmetrical  oc- 
tagon which,  taking  in  the 
whole  breadth  of  the  building, 
contained  an  area  three  times 
as    large    as    that    of    the    old 


ect  them  again  by  four  great  arches 
church  and  only  as  wide  as  its  cen- 


rectangular 


Eight 


arches  were  built  between  the 
eight  piers,  four  very  wide  ones 
opening  into  the  main  alleys  of 
nave,  choir,  and  transept-arms, 
and  four  others,  much  narrower, 
opening  diagonally  into  their 
aisles.  The  former  rise  higher 
than  the  vaulted  ceilings  beyond 
them,  and  their  heads,  between 
the  vaulting  and  the  outer  roofs, 
are  filled  with  traceries.  The 
intermediate  arches  are  only  as 
tall  as  the  aisles;  but  over  each 


<--'^    I     E     ^         B        ?  C 


PLAN   OF   ELY   CATHEDRAL.  1 

FROM    MURR.AY's    "  HANDBOOK    TO    THE    CATHEDRALS 
OF    ENGLAND." 

A,  Galilee-porch.  B,  Vestibule  under  western  tower.  C.  South- 
west trail  sept- arm.  D,  Chapel.  E,  E,  Northwest  transept- 
arm  and  chapel  (destroyed).  F.  F,  F,  Nave  and  aisles.  G,  Oc- 
tagon. H,  I,  Main  transept  P.  Lady-chapel.  Q.  Choir  of  the 
singers.  R.  Presbyter>'.  S,  Retroclioir.  U,  Bishop  .-Mcock's 
chantry.  V,  Bishop  West's  chantry.  X,  Remains  of  cloister, 
with  monks'  and  pnor's  doors  at  i  and  2.  4,  Bishop  de  Lnda's. 
tomb. 


1  The  external  length  of  Ely  is  565  feet  and  the  internal  length  517,  while  the  transept  measures  178 
feet  6  inches.     The  Lady-chapel  is  100  feet  long  inside,  46  feet  wide,  and  60  feet  high. 


2o6 


English  Cathedmh. 


of  them  rises,  first,  a  solid  piece  of  wall  adorned  by  an  arcade  of 
niches,  and  tlien  a  great  traceried  window,  standing  free  above  the 
aisle-roofs,  carried  to  the  same  height  as  the  great  arches,  and  filled 
with  glazed  traceries  to  correspond  with  their  unglazcd  ones.  And 
from  the  eight  walls  thus  brought  to  equal  heigiit  there  curves  an 
octagonal  vault  bearing  aloft,  above  the  centre  of  the  crossing,  an 
octagonal  lantern  formed  of  wide  traceried  windows. 

There  can  be  no  question  that  this  is  the  most  appropriate  and 
beautiful  crossing  in  England.  The  usual  narrow  square  lantern, 
opening  its  well-like  form  onl\-  above  the  junction  of  the  central  alleys, 
seems  to  have  little  relationship  to  the  arms  of  a  church,  and  does 
not  add  greatly  to  dignity  of  general  effect,  as  one  must  come  pretty 


THE  I.ANTKRN,  FROM   THE  NORTHEAST 


near  it  before  its  existence  is  realized.  In  France  it  was  altogether 
abandoned  as  soon  as  Gothic  art  was  fairly  on  the  road  to  full  de- 
velopment. But  the  unbroken  sweep  of  ceilings,  which  is  so  impres- 
sive in  tall  French  churches,  would  have  a  crushing  effect  in  low 
English  ones;  and  in  widening  out  his  crossing  Alan  of  Walsingham 
found  the  best  way  to  treat  the  centre  of  a  very  large  but  low  interior. 
The  boldness  of  his  device  is  appreciated  when  we  find  that  his  work 
is  often  called  "the  only  true  Gothic  dome  in  existence,"  and  that  it 


The  CatJiedral  of  St.  Etheldrcda  and  St.  Peter —  Ely.    207 

deserves  the  words  if  we  count  as  true  domes  only  those  which  bear 
central  lanterns.  But  polygonal  vaulted  Gothic  ceilings  exist  else- 
where, although  in  inconsiderable  numbers.  There  is  one,  for  instance, 
in  the  chapter-house  at  York;  it  was  built  before  Walsinghams  dome; 
and  even  if  he  had  seen  only  those  English  chapter-houses  where  the 
vault  is  sustained  by  a  central  pier,  we  can  easily  imagine  where  he 
got  part  of  his  inspiration.  But  his  own  brain  must  have  conceived 
the  addition  of  the  lantern  as  well  as  the  great  fundamental  idea  of 
setting  octagon  and  lantern  above  the  centre  of  a  mighty  church. 
A  man  who  could  design  like  this  was  a  great  architect  in  the  truest 
sense  of  the  term  —  not  merely  a  remarkable  artist  like  the  unknown 
predecessor  who  built  the  Peterborough  porch.  But  his  Avork  is  not 
as  fine  in  execution  as  in  conception,  as  it  would  have  been  under  the 
hand  of  an  architect  trained  in  the  best  possible  school  of  Gothic  de- 
sign. He  did  not  follow  the  usual  English  fashion  and  let  his  vaulting- 
shafts  rest  upon  corbels;  but  the  cluster  of  three  shafts  which  starts  from 
the  floor  in  each  of  the  eight  corners  is  quite  independent  of  the  great 
pier  near  which  it  stands;  where  it  passes  into  a  cluster  of  five  shafts 
the  junction  is  not  confessed  and  accented  as  a  valuable  constructional 
feature,  but  is  masked  by  a  rich  canopied  niche;  and  from  this  fivefold 
cluster  springs  a  group  of  thirteen  vaulting-ribs.  The  field  of  wall 
which,  in  each  of  the  diagonal  sides,  is  left  between  the  arch  below  and 
the  window  above,  seems  much  too  massive  and  plain  in  a  structure 
where  all  the  other  portions  are  very  light  and  open,  and  the  arch 
itself  is  isolated  from  all  neighboring  features.  Moreover,  the  elabo- 
rate vault,  like  the  lantern  which  it  supports,  is  built  of  wood  in  imita- 
tion of  lithic  forms.^ 

Puritan  hands  played  havoc  with  this  admirable  work  of  art,  and 
modern  hands  have  not  been  very  skilful  in  restoring  it.  The.  statues 
which  fill  the  old  niches  are  fairly  good,  but  the  glass  in  the  windows  is 
bad,  and  the  vault  is  painted  in  a  gaudy  pattern  with  much  magenta 
and  vivid  green.  But  even  thus  we  can  appreciate,  of  course,  the 
grandeur,  beauty,  and  good  sense  of  the  architectural  conception,  and 
can  give  VValsingham  the  place  that  he  deserves — perhaps,  if  origi- 
nality is  weighed  together  with  skill,  at  the  very  head  of  English 
mediaeval  architects. 

Why,  we  may  wonder,  did  not  Alan's  octagon  find  imitators?     Why 

1  So,  too,  is  the  domed  ceiling   of  the  chapter-  one  at  Prague  with  a  clear  sweep  from  wall  to  wall 
house  at  York.     But  Gothic  ceilings  of  this  sort  of  seventy-five  feet,  —  a  diameter    somewhat  ex- 
could  be  built  with  stone.     There  is,  for  instance,  a  ceeding  that  of  Walsingham's  octagon, 
large  one  in  Portugal,  and  there  is  a  very  beautiful 


2o8  Eiiij^/is/i  Cathciinils 


i^' 


was  no  other  English  church  built  with  a  crossing  like  Ely's  until  after 
the  death  of  Gothic  art,  when,  in  St.  Paul's  of  London,  Sir  Christopher 
Wren  executed  a  similar  idea  in  a  very  different  fashion  ?  Walsini^diam  ' 
was  born  too  late.  No  great  church  was  founded  in  England  after  the 
middle  of  the  fourteenth  century;  and  though  many  were  altered,  no 
old  towers  fell  to  give  new  men  a  chance  to  rebuild  them  in  a  novel 
way.  Such  a  scheme  as  Alan's  could  not  have  been  conceived  in  the 
Norman  period;  it  is  too  thoroughly  Gothic  in  aim  and  feeling.  But 
had  he  lived  in  the  Early  English  period,  we  can  easily  believe  that 
others  would  have  followed  in  his  footsteps ;  for,  quite  apart  from  its 
beauty,  his  device  has  practical  value  as  widening  out  the  space  where, 
after  the  singers'  choir  had  been  pushed  back  from  under  the  tower, 
the  congregation  naturally  crowded  closest  to  hear  the  choral  service 
performed  beyond  the  screen. 


The  octagon  was  begun  in  1322  and  finished  in  1342,  and  it  cost  a 
sum  about  equal  to  ^60,000  at  the  present  value  of  money.  As  soon 
as  it  was  complete  the  three  ruined  choir- bays  adjoining  it  were  re- 
built. They  are  also  in  the  Decorated  style,  but  in  feature  and  treat- 
ment are  so  unlike  Walsingham's  work  that  we  can  hardly  attribute 
them  to  him,  thoutrh  he  was  still  alive  and  hitrh  in  honor  in  the  convent. 

These  bays  are  often  cited  as  the  most  perfect  and  splendid  e.xample 
of  Decorated  Gothic  in  all  England.  They  are,  indeed,  very  splendid, 
and  are  wonderfully  perfect  in  the  execution  of  their  details.  But,  as  I 
have  said  in  describing  Lincoln  Cathedral,  they  are  behind  their  time 
in  constructional  idea,  keeping,  in  triforium  and  clearstor)-,  the  old 
scheme  inherited  from  the  Normans,  while  at  Lichfield,  at  York,  and 
elsewhere,  a  more  thoroughly  Gothic  scheme  was  being  evolved. 
And  the  novel  treatment  of  this  old  scheme  hardly  reconciles  us  to 
its  retention,  although  it  is  very  interesting  as  an  attempt  to  secure 
an  increase  of  lightness  and  delicacy.  Only  the  columnar  shape  of 
the  mullion  which  divides  the  lower  untraceried  part  of  each  triforium- 
aperture  records  the  genesis  of  this  aperture  as  descended  from  coupled 
lights  included  under  a  larger  arch.  The  window  in  the  external  wall 
of  the  clearstory  now  fills  the  whole  space  with  its  elaborate  traceries, 
and  there  is  no  inner  arcade ;  but  the  wall  is  still  a  double  wall,  and 
the  memory  of  the  arcade  is  preserved  by  the  lace-like  border  of  cusp- 
ing  around  the  inner  aperture. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.    209 


The  open  character  of  this  clearstory,  the  Hghtness  of  the  immense 
triforium,  and  the  deHcacy  of  its  flowing  tracery-Hnes  give  these  bays 
a  very  fragile  look,  lacking  in  dignity,  decision,  and  repose ;  they  are 
very  charming,  but  they  are 
pretty  rather  than  beautitul. 
The  traceries,  wrought  in  white 
stone,  may  suggest  spun  sugar 
to  an  irreverent  eye;  they  show 
that,  now-  the  love  for  traceries 
had  grown  so  strong,  it  was 
well  that  the  old  triforium- 
scheme  should  be  given  up,  for 
such  a  design  insistently  calls 
for  a  filling  of  strong-hued 
glass  to  give  it  substance  and 
purpose.  In  most  portions  of 
the  work  ornament  is  too  lav- 
ishly applied,  but  none  of  the 
capitals  are  carved  except  with 
those  successive  mouldings 
\vhich  are  aesthetically  tolerable 
only  where  the  work  as  a  w-hole 
is  severely  plain  ;  and  such  a 
distribution  of  ornament  cer- 
tainly has  not  the  right  con- 
structional emphasis.  In  short, 
it  is  much  easier  to  comprehend 
why  uncritical  eyes  are  always 
delighted  by  this  part  of  Ely 
than  why  professed  students  of 
architecture  should  sometimes 
have  praised  it  without  reserve. 

All  parts  of  the  eastern  limb 
and  all  the  aisles  of  the  church 
are  vaulted  with  stone ;  but  the 
crossing,  as  we  know,  is  vaulted 

with  wood,  and  there  are  no  vaults  at  all  in  the  central  alleys  of  nave 
and  transept.  Originally  the  nave  had  a  flat  boarded  ceiling,  and  was 
covered  by  a  low-pitched  roof  of  truncated  shape.  But  when  Alan 
of  Walsingham's  great  pointed  arch  was  built  across  its  extremity,  the 
i-i 


SCHEME  OF  THE  CHOIR. 


2IO  English  Cathedrals. 

roof  was  raised  and  was  left  open  to  the  church.  No  ceilinc^  was  con- 
structed until,  some  thirty-five  years  ago,  Alan's  vault  and  lantern  had 
received  their  modern  adornment.  Then,  to  bring  the  nave  into  har- 
mony, the  present  ceiling  of  boards  was  constructed,  and  was  colored, 
fortunately,  in  a  more  agreeable  fashion  than  the  central  vault.  The 
transept  still  has  an  open  timber  roof 

When  the  present  pavement  of  the  choir  was  laid,  interesting  re- 
mains of  the  Norman  choir  were  found  beneath  the  soil.  These  show 
that  Abbot  .Simeon  began  to  build  an  apse  of  the  usual  Norman  semi- 
circular shape,  and  that  his  successor  Richard  built,  instead,  a  flat  east 
end  to  receive  the  shrines  of  th(!  four  canonized  abbesses.  The  great 
shafts  which  were  to  have  marked  the  beginning  of  the  apse,  and 
which  were  commenced  by  Simeon  and  finished  by  Richard,  still  re- 
main, although  surmounted  by  Early  English  capitals;  and  they  now 
mark  the  division  between  the  Early  English  and  the  Decorated 
portions  of  the  choir. 

The  creneral  effect  of  this  interior  is  better  than  that  of  others  where 
the  western  and  eastern  limbs  are  as  diverse  in  style;  for  the  wide 
reach  of  the  octagon  prevents  close  comparisons,  and  thus,  by  sepa- 
rating, seems  really  to  harmonize  the  different  portions.  Moreover, 
if  we  stand  in  the  crossing  and  gaze  east,  west,  north,  and  south,  we 
see  that,  in  spite  of  all  differences  in  style,  there  is  a  general  concord 
in  the  main  constructional  features.  From  end  to  end  of  the  church 
the  string-courses  run  at  the  same  level, — the  height  of  the  three 
stories  everywhere  corresponds.  Doubtless  it  was  the  desire  to  pre- 
serve this  correspondence  which  led  the  builder  of  the  latest  part  — 
the  Decorated  portion  of  the  choir — to  retain  the  old  type  of  trifo- 
rium  and  clearstory  rather  than  fall  in  with  newer  methods  of  design. 
From  the  modern  point  of  view  he  was  entirely  commendable;  unity 
seems  to  us  the  most  precious  quality  that  a  building  can  have.  But 
in  mediceval  days,  when  each  generation  cherished  a  form  of  art  which 
it  really  believed  superior  to  any  that  had  gone  before,  and  when 
almost  every  man  worked  in  accord  with  his  generation,  unity  was 
much  less  highly  esteemed.  Every  man  wanted  first  of  all  to  build 
his  best ;  and  the  best  seemed  to  him  to  be  expressed  in  the  work  of 
his  contemporaries.  When  he  did  not  build  like  them  he  went  ahead, 
exploring  new  paths.  He  seldom  turned  back  like  this  architect  at 
Ely.  And  even  this  architect  could  not  turn  altogether  back.  He 
could  adopt  the  old  general  scheme;  but  he  had  to  execute  it  in  the 
Decorated  style,  and  he  could  not  even  cling  to  the  precedents  af- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  EtJieldreda  and  St.  Peter —  Ely.   2 1 1 

forded  by  the  earlier  phase  of  this  style.  It  would  have  been  as 
impossible  for  him  to  imitate,  in  the  flowing  period  of  Decorated 
Gothic,  a  design  like  that  of  the  Angel  Choir  at  Lincoln,  built  in  its 
geometrical  period,  as  to  reconstruct  the  ruined  Early  English  bays 
in  their  original  shape. 

The  Lady-chapel  was  begun  in  132 1,  a  year  before  the  octagon,  and 
is  also  believed  to  be  a  work  of  Walsingham's.  As  at  Canterbury,  the 
Virgin  was  deprived  of  her  usual  place  at  the  east  end  of  the  cathe- 
dral by  the  presence  of  a  local  saint  of  exceptional  renown.  At 
Canterbury  St.  Thomas  reigned  in  the  church,  and  at  Ely  St.  Ethel- 
•dreda;  and  the  Lady-chapel  at  Ely,  like  the  one  at  Canterbury,  was 
built  out  to  the  eastward  from  the  northern  transept-arm. 

It  is  a  beautiful  rectangular  room,  100  feet  in  length,  with  five  win- 
dows in  each  of  its  sides  and  a  single  great  window  in  either  end. 
The  east  window,  which,  like  the  walls  and  the  smaller  windows,  was 
completed  by  1349,  shows  in  its  traceries  the  near  approach  of  the 
Perpendicular  style ;  and  this  is  still  more  apparent  in  the  west  win- 
dow, which  was  not  inserted  until  1374.  But  everything  else  shows  a 
pure  form  of  flowing  Decorated,  and  the  details  are  incomparably  rich; 
or,  to  speak  more  truly,  they  were  before  the  Puritans  laid  hands  upon 
them.  All  along  the  walls  beneath  the  windows  run  elaborate  arcades 
with  little  canopied  niches,  and  between  the  windows  are  similar  niches 
of  the  most  intricate  loveliness.  The  reredos  which  stretches  across 
below  the  east  window  was  once  connected  with  it  by  a  broad  raised 
platform ;  and  on  this  platform,  relieved  against  the  splendor  of  the 
glass,  probably  stood  that  great  figure  of  the  Virgin  which  is  often 
mentioned  in  the  monastery  records.  A  myriad  little  statues  then 
filled  all  the  niches,  and  the  pure-white  stone  was  covered  with  beauti- 
ful painted  patterns  in  green  and  red  and  blue.  But  this  stone  is 
extremely  soft, — almost  as  soft  as  chalk, — and  so  it  yielded  easily 
to  Protestant  axe  and  hammer.  Not  one  of  the  tiny  statues  remains, 
the  dainty  mouldings  and  carven  foliage  which  enshrined  them  are 
grievously  injured,  and  only  a  few  fragments  of  the  painted  decoration 
can  be  traced. 

VI 

Great  names  very  soon  begin  to  appear  on  the  list  of  Ely's  bishops. 
The  second  holder  of  the  title,  Nigel,  who  was  appointed  in  1133,  had 
been  Treasurer  to  Henry  I.,  and  like  his  uncle  Roger,  the  famous 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  was  a  prominent  actor  in  the  wars  of  King  Ste- 


212  English  Cathcdyals. 

phen's  reign.  Personally  extravagant  antl  politically  ambitious,  he 
robbed  his  see  w  ith  the  boldest  hand,  even  stripping  the  shrine  of  St. 
Etheldrcda  of  its  silver  covering.  At  first  for  Stephen  and  then  for 
Matilda,  he  was  besieged  at  Devizes,  and  would  again  have  stood  a 
siege  in  Ely  itself  had  not  Stephen  surprised  the  Isle  before  its  de- 
fenses were  complete.  Hut  when  the  troubles  were  over  he  made  his 
peace  with  Stephen,  and  after  the  accession  of  Henry  II.  he  became 
one  of  the  Barons  of  the  Exchequer.  The  castle  which  he  built  at 
Ely  has  wholly  disappeared.  Next  to  him  came  Geoffrey  Ridel,  who 
was  also  a  Baron  of  the  Exchequer  and  a  prominent  statesman,  and 
so  strong  a  supporter  of  the  king  against  the  archbishop  that  after 
Becket's  murder  he  was  forced  to  clear  himself  under  oath  from 
charges  of  complicity.  But  at  Ely  one  forgets  his  worldly  deeds, 
remembering  him  as  the  constructor  of  the  west  front  of  the  church. 

Then  came  William  Longchamp,  Chancellor  and  Grand  Justiciary 
of  Richard  I.  During  his  life  the  temporal  power  of  Ely  rose  to  its 
highest  point,  for  when  the  king  went  a-crusading,  the  Bishops  of 
Ely  and  of  Durham  were  severally  intrusted  with  the  rule  of  the  king- 
dom north  and  south  of  the  Trent.  But  even  half  a  loaf  of  supreme 
authorit)  was  not  enough  for  Longchamp,  who  arrested  his  colleague, 
and,  "assuming  the  utmost  pomp  and  state,  treated  the  kingdom  as  if 
it  were  his  own,  bestowing  all  places  in  Church  and  State  on  his  rela- 
tions and  dependants."  Prince  John  resisting  him,  he  shut  himself  up 
in  the  Tower  of  London,  but  was  forced  to  flee,  was  captured  at  Dover, 
and  exiled  to  Normandy.  Eorgiven  by  Richard  on  his  return,  he  was 
Chancellor  again  until  he  died. 

The  next  Bishop  of  Ely,  Eustace,  was  the  next  Chancellor  too.  ~  His 
chief  merit  was  the  stand  he  took  for  national  freedom,  opposing  King 
John  and  being  one  of  the  three  bishops  who  published  the  interdict  of 
the  pope.  Vet  the  merit  of  building  the  Galilee  at  Ely  adds  a  further 
lustre  to  his  name.  Three  bishops  followed  Eustace  who  were  not 
quite  so  prominent,  and  then  in  1229  came  Hugh  of  Northwold,  who 
went  as  ambassador  on  various  royal  missions,  and  sumptuously  en- 
tertained royal  guests  when  he  had  brought  the  Early  English  choir 
of  his  cathedral  to  completion  and  was  once  more  translating  the 
bodies  of  the  sainted  abbesses;  as  a  reward  for  all  of  which,  one  sup- 
poses, he  was  buried  at  St.  Etheldreda's  feet.  William  of  Kilkenny  fol- 
lowed— another  Chancellor — and  then  Hugh  of  Balsham,  who  in  1280 
founded  the  first  college  at  Cambridge,  and  dedicated  it  to  St.  Peter. 
Then  came  John  of  Kirkby,  Treasurer  of  the  realm,  and  so  little  of  an 


TJic  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter —  Ely.    2 1 3 

ecclesiastic  that  he  stepped  from  deacon's  to  priest's  orders  only  after 
his  appointment  to  the  see  and  only  the  day  before  his  consecration. 
His  successor  was  William  de  Luda,  "a  lordly  man  and  eminent  in  the 
sciences,"  one  of  the  commissioners  who  settled  the  peace  with  France 
for  Edward  I.,  and  the  chief  mediator  between  the  clergy  and  this  king. 
The  tomb  in  which  De  Luda  was  buried  is  one  of  the  m'ost  magnificent 
in  Ely.     In  13 16  came  that  Bishop  Hotham  whose  name  I  have  already 


ELY,    FROM   THE  SOUTH 

cited.  Even  his  great  architectural  labors  must  have  seemed  unimpor- 
tant to  his  contemporaries  compared  with  the  greater  public  labors 
which  filled  his  life.  He  was  first  Treasurer  and  then  Lord  Chancellor. 
He  took  the  field  against  Robert  Bruce,  and  narrowly  escaped  capture 
at  Mytton-upon-Swale.  He  arranged  the  subsequent  truce  with  Scot- 
land, and  then  was  sent  to  settle  the  affairs  of  Gascony.  And  the 
Great  Seal  was  again  confided  to  him  after  the  abdication  of  Edward 
n.  This,  one  might  think,  was  work  enough  for  any  man.  Yet  Elv 
14* 


214  English  Cathedrals. 

never  had  a  more  devoted  incumbent  than  Hotham.  He  not  only- 
caused  the  buildinsr  of  the  octagon  and  the  Lady-chapel,  and  left  much 
money  in  his  will  for  the  restoration  of  the  choir,  but  also  secured  legis- 
lation which  vastly  profited  the  revenues  of  the  church,  and  purchased 
for  it  great  tracts  of  land  adjoining  that  manor  of  Holborn  which  one 
of  his  predecessors  had  given  to  the  see — great  tracts  now  lying  in 
the  very  heart  of  London.  He  too  was  buried  in  a  splendid  tomb 
which  still  stands  in  the  cathedral. 

One  of  the  richest  and  most  powerful  of  English  sees,  Ely  was  nat- 
urally one  of  those  with  whose  affairs  the  popes  were  most  constantly 
interfering.  Often  we  read  of  some  papal  protege  made  bishop  in  op- 
position to  local  wishes ;  and  though  as  a  rule  no  issues  seem  deader 
to-day  than  these  (except,  of  course,  as  illustrating  that  great  conflict 
with  Rome  upon  which  so  much  of  England's  history  hinges),  one  such 
act  of  papal  interference  still  excites  a  living  interest,  a  poignant  if  a 
simply  sentimental  regret.  This  was  the  act  which  excluded  from 
Ely's  cathedra  Alan  of  Walsingham,  whom  the  monks  had  previously 
elected  prior  and  whom  they  now  desired  for  bishop.  Bishop  De  Lisle 
sat  in  his  stead,  and  we  reap  consolation  when  we  read  that  he  proved 
"a  haughty  and  magnificent  prelate,  little  in  favor  either  with  his  con- 
vent or  with  the  king,"  and  that  he  had  a  vexed  career  and  died  at 
Avignon,  whither  he  had  fled  to  the  shelter  of  the  papal  wing. 

After  him  came  Simon  Langham  and  John  Rarnet,  each  in  his  turn 
Treasurer  of  England.  During  Barnet's  time  the  king  restored  and 
restocked  certain  manors  belonging  to  the  see  which  had  been  denuded 
by  De  Lisle  and  by  the  king  himself  The  wealth  possessed  by  such 
establishments  is  shown  by  the  list  of  these  manors,  which,  too,  were 
only  the  chief  among  others:  the  palace  at  Ely;  Ely  House  in  Hol- 
born; Bishop's  Hatfield  and  Hadham  in  Hertfordshire;  Balsham  and 
Ditton  in  Cambridgeshire;  Somersham  in  Huntingdonshire;  Down- 
ham,  Wisbech  Castle,  and  Doddington  in  the  Isle  of  Ely.  And  the 
nature  of  the  average  incumbent  of  the  time  is  as  clearly  illustrated 
by  the  fact  that  every  subsequent  bishop,  on  the  day  of  his  enthroniza- 
tion,  was  obliged  to  take  oath  beneath  the  west  door  of  the  cathedral 
that  he  would  transmit  unimpaired  to  his  successors  the  wealth  now 
given  him  in  charge. 

Bishop  Arundel  was  Lord  Chancellor  and  rebuilt  the  palace  in  Hol- 
born. Bishop  Fordham  was  Lord  Treasurer  under  Richard  11.,  and 
is  the  Ely  who  sings  second  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  in  the 
opening  scenes  of  Shakspere's  "  Henry  V."     Then  came  Bishop  Mor- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  EtJieldreda  and  St.  Peter —  Ely.    2 1 5 

gan,  still  another  statesman,  and  then  Louis  de  Luxembourg,  who  had 
been  Archbishop  of  Rouen  and  a  faithful  friend  of  the  English  in 
France.  Next  to  him  in  the  line  stands  Thomas  Bourchier,  and  next 
but  one  to  Bourchier  stands  John  Morton.  Both  of  these  are  actors  in 
the  scenes  of  "Richard  IIL"  —  Morton  as  actual  Bishop  of  Ely,  and 
Bourchier  as  then  promoted  to  be  Primate  of  All  England.  Morton 
was  a  very  skilful  engineer,  and  one  of  the  first  systematically  to 
attempt  the  draining  of  the  great  north  fens.  He  cut  a  canal  forty 
miles  in  length  from  near  Peterborough  to  the  sea,  and  built  a  big 
brick  tower,  on  top  of  which  he  often  sat  to  superintend  the  work. 
The  canal  is  still  called  Morton's  Seam.  Yet  so  much  stronger  is  the 
voice  of  poesy  than  the  voices  of  history  and  topography  combined, 
that  most  of  us  know  Morton  only  as  "My  Lord  of  Ely"  whom  Shak- 
spere's  Richard  asks  for  "good  strawberries"  from  his  Holborn  garden. 

This  man  of  science  was  succeeded  by  a  man  of  art, — John  Al- 
cock.  Very  often  the  ecclesiastic  who  was  the  reputed  builder  of 
great  works  really  deserved  no  higher  title  than  their  architect's  pay- 
master or  employer.  But  Alcock  seems  to  have  been  himself  an 
architect.  He  was  Controller  of  the  Royal  Works  and  Buildings 
under  Henry  VIL,  and  we  shall  see  on  another  page  how  much  he 
did  at  Ely. 

It  is  hard  to  omit  any  name  from  this  long  list  of  bishops,  so  in- 
cessantly do  interesting  names  appear.  In  15 15,  for  example,  was 
appointed  Nicholas  West,  who  had  been  a  famous  lawyer  and  a  fre- 
quent ambassador;  who  had  gone  with  Henry  VIII.  to  the  Camp  of 
the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold,  and  who  afterward  braved  his  master 
and  took  a  bold  stand  for  Catherine  of  Aragon ;  who,  although  a 
baker's  son,  was  the  most  sumptuous  prelate  of  his  day,  having  more 
than  one  hundred  servants,  and  the  most  charitable,  feeding  two  hun- 
dred paupers  daily  at  his  gates ;  and  who  is  appropriately  entombed 
in  that  lovely  chapel  at  Ely  which  speaks  the  last  word  of  English 
Gothic  art. 

Then  there  was  Bishop  Goodrich,  who  was  also  a  great  legal  au- 
thority and  had  sided  with  Henry  against  his  queen;  who  supported 
the  Reformation  and  destroyed  the  shrines  of  those  holy  Ely  women 
whom  so  many  of  his  predecessors  had  delighted  to  honor ;  who  helped 
to  revise  the  translation  of  the  Bible  and  helped  to  rule  the  kingdom 
as  Chancellor  for  the  young  king  Edward.  And  then  there  was 
Bishop  Thirlby,  who  was  appointed  by  Queen  INIary,  and  who  went 
as  her  ambassador  to    Rome  to  swear  anew  England's  allegiance  to 


2l6 


English  Cathedrals. 


1 


m 


CATHEDRAL  AND  SPIRE  OF  .ST.  MARY'S  CHURCH,  FROM   THE  SOUTHWEST. 


the  pope.  He  performed  the  ceremony  of  degradation  over  Arch- 
bishop Cranmer,  but  was  man  enough  to  weep  as  he  did  it;  and  he 
was  man  enough,  also,  to  submit  to  ten  years'  confinement  at  Lambeth 
rather  than  take  the  oath  of  ecclesiastical  submission  to  Elizabeth. 

Next  to  Thirlby  came  Richard  Cox,  who  helped  to  draw  up  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  and  who  long  and  valiantly  resisted  the  queen's 
encroachments  upon  the  Church — especially  as  they  threatened  his 
own  rich  manor  of  Holborn.  It  was  to  Cox  and  with  reference  to  this 
manor  that  the  queen  wrote  the  famous  letter : 

Proud  Prelate, —  Vou  know  what  you  were  before  I  made  you  what  you  are;  if  you 
do  not  immediately  comply  with  my  recjuest,  by  Ciod  I  will  unfrock  you. —  Elizabeth. 

Eighty  years  later  than  Cox,  in  1638,  Matthew  Wren  was  installed 
at  Ely,  "an  excellent  hater  of  Puritans,"  a  loyal  supporter  of  Laud, 
a  "  man  of  sour,  severe  nature,"  a  stern  ecclesiastical  disciplinarian, 
and  an  occupant  for  eighteen  years  of  the  Tower  of  London, — chiefly 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  Sf.  Peter —  Ely.    2 1 7 

individualized  to  us  as  that  uncle  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren  whose 
merits  and  woes  are  sympathetically  referred  to  in  the  "  Parentalia." 

While  Wren  sat  in  the  Tower  —  between  the  two  terms  when  he  sat 
at  Ely — the  power  of  the  Commonwealth  rose  and  fell.  At  Ely  it  did 
not  work  quite  as  much  havoc  as  it  worked  elsew'here ;  but  this  is 
not  to  say  that  it  worked  little.  Ely  was  the  scene  of  that  incident 
which  Carlyle  relates  with  such  gusto.  It  was  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hitch  of 
Ely  to  whom  Cromwell  unavailingly  wrote  that  he  should  "forbear 
altogether  the  choir-service,  so  unedifying  and  offensive,  lest  the  sol- 
diers should  in  any  tumultuary  or  disorderly  way  attempt  the  refor- 
mation of  the  cathedral  church."  It  was  under  the  octagon  of  Ely 
that  Cromwell  therefore  appeared  in  person,  "with  a  rabble  at  his 
heels,  and  his  hat  on,"  to  shout  "'leave  off  your  fooling  and  come 
down.  Sir,'  ...  in  a  voice  .  .  .  which  Mr.  Hitch  did  now  instanta- 
neously give  ear  to." 

Since  the  Reformation  there  have  been  many  good  men  and  true 
in  the  chair  of  Ely — scholars,  theologians,  preachers,  and  patrons  of 
learning;  men  doubtless  much  better  as  regards  the  heart,  which  no 
man  seeth,  than  most  of  their  mighty  forerunners.  But  those  deeds 
of  theirs  which  man  can  see  have  not  had  enough  significance,  either 
politically  or  architecturally,  for  their  names  to  be  cited  here.  The 
great  days  of  prelatical  influence  and  the  great  days  of  constructional 
art  saw  their  suns  set  together. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  mighty  men  whose  names  we  have  just  read 
have  not  had  a  tithe  of  their  varied  distinctions  told.  The  duties  which 
they  had  performed,  the  honors  which  they  had  reaped,  before  they 
became  bishops  at  Ely,  have  barely  been  referred  to ;  and  their  after 
careers  have  scarcely  in  a  single  case  been  suggested.  Many  of  them 
were  bishops  of  other  sees  before  or  after  their  appointment  to  Ely. 
Several  of  them  were  cardinals  of  Rome.  Some  of  them  were  dis- 
tinguished in  literature  as  well  as  in  worldly  affairs,  in  science,  and  in 
art.  And  death  hardly  removed  more  of  them  than  promotion;  there 
was  no  more  prolific  nursery  of  archbishops  than  the  Isle  of  Ely. 

Naturally,  even  a  Bishop  of  Ely,  if  a  weak  man  or  a  dull  man,  was 
not  loaded  with  secular  dignities  and  bidden  to  control  the  destinies 
of  England.  But  the  power  of  Ely  is  illustrated  by  the  infrequent 
association  of  insignificant  names  with  her  own.  If  her  chair  was  not 
the  sole  source  of  her  prelates'  fame,  it  was  one  of  England's  chief 
rewards  for  fame,  and  one  of  the  surest  stepping-stones  to  still  higher 
eminence.     The  assistance  given  was  mutual,  of  course:   Ely  helped 


2i8  EuglisJi  Cathedrals. 

her  bishops  on  in  Hfe,  and  they  helped  lier  on  by  still  further  exalting 
her  name  and  extending  her  influence,  and  by  constantly  bequeathing 
to  her  the  riches  which  they  had  gained  in  the  outer  world. 

Let  us  go  back  now  to  the  cathedral  for  a  moment,  and  see  what 
remains  within  it  to  bear  witness  to  these  prelates'  grandeur. 


VIT 

Thi:  architectural  labors  of  the  earlier  bishops  have  already  been 
mentioned.  By  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century  nothing  more 
could  be  done  for  the  cathedral  except  to  make  minor  alterations  and 
add  new  minor  features; — windows  could  be  rebuilt  for  the  insertion 
of  more  splendid  glass,  and  tombs  could  be  erected  to  receive  their 
builders'  immediate  predecessors  or  to  be  ready  when  their  builders 
should  themselves  come  to  die. 

The  most  conspicuous  tombs  are  the  two  square  chapels  or  chan- 
tries which  were  built  into  the  eastern  ends  of  the  choir-aisles.  The 
northerly  one  was  designed  by  John  Alcock,  the  bishop-architect,  for 
his  own  occupancy,  and  was  finished  aljout  the  year  1500.  Although 
the  early  Decorated  windows  which  had  stood  in  the  choir-end  before 
it  was  begun  were  carefully  preserved,  the  rest  of  the  work  reveals  a 
late  version  of  the  Perpendicular  style.  The  walls  are  entirely  covered 
with  complicated  tabernacle-work,  and  the  fan-vaulting  of  the  ceiling 
is  very  elaborate.  The  sculptured  details  are  full  of  curious  fancies, 
and  here  and  there  occurs  the  bishop's  device,  a  cock  standing  upon 
a  globe — one  of  those  ])unning  representations  of  the  syllables  of  a 
name  which  are  common  in  mediaeval  art  of  every  age. 

The  southerly  chapel  bears  the  name  of  Bishop  West,  the  baker's 
magnificent  son,  and  is  also  paneled  throughout  with  tabernacle-work, 
miraculously  delicate  and  dainty.  The  omnipresent  foliage-patterns 
are  designed  on  the  tiniest  scale,  yet  with  infinite  spirit  and  vigor,  and 
each  of  the  scores  of  tiny  niches  once  was  filled  by  a  figure  not  more 
than  a  few  inches  in  height.  Thanks  to  the  Reformers,  only  two  or 
three  heads  now  remain,  but  these  are  quite  enough  to  show  that  the 
statues,  despite  their  very  small  size,  were  as  instinct  as  the  foliage 
with  life  and  force  and  character.  The  whole  rich  and  delicate  in- 
terior is  carved  in  the  same  soft  snowy  stone  which  was  used  in  the 
Lady-chapel,  and  the  scanty  traces  of  color  which  remain  seem  to 
tell  that  the  figures  were  left  in  their  original  whiteness  and  relieved 
against  backgrounds  and  ornaments  painted  in  strong  primary  tones. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Rtheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.    219 

The  loveliness  of  this  chantry  gains  added  interest  from  the  charac- 
ter of  its  details.  Dating  from  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century, 
it  shows  Renaissance  motives  mingling  with  late  Gothic.  We  do  not 
often  find  work  of  this  sort  in  English  churches,  for  most  of  it  was  put 
into  monuments  and  other  accessory  features  which  easily  fell  a  prey 
either  to  some  Reformer  or  to  that  modern  devastator,  "restoration," 
which  in  England  has  had  so  cruel  and  stupid  a  hatred  for  everything 
that  it  does  not  choose  to  think  "pure"  in  art  —  that  is,  for  every- 
thing which  is  not  mediaeval.  And  even  when  such  work  has  by 
chance  survived,  it  is  seldom  attractive,  for  English  hands  could  rarely 
manage  early  Renaissance  motives  well.  The  remarkable  beauty  of 
this  chantry,  its  grace  and  delicacy,  its  supreme  refinement,  the  singu- 
lar skill  with  which  mediaeval  and  classic  elements  are  blended  in  a 
coherent  and  harmonious  design  —  all  these  qualities  give  color  to 
the  tradition  that  it  was  built  by  Italian  hands,  and  perhaps  by  the 
hands  of  Michael  Angelo's  rival,  Torregiano,  who  lived  a  long  time 
in  England  and  whose  most  famous  work  is  the  tomb  of  Henry  VII. 
at  Westminster. 

In  each  of  these  chapels  is  the  tomb  of  its  founder,  ruined  by  the 
Puritans. 

The  choir  contains  a  splendid  series  of  episcopal  monuments  whose 
rich  canopies  were  respected  even  when  the  bodies  and  the  effigies 
which  lay  beneath  were  disturbed  and  the  accessory  saints'  figures 
were  destroyed.  One  was  the  sepulchre  of  the  "lordly"  De  Luda, — 
an  elaborate  canopy  with  trefoiled  arches  and  great  groups  of  pinna- 
cles at  either  end.  This  has  been  atrociously  colored  in  modern  times, 
and,  the  tomb  which  it  contained  no  longer  existing,  it  is  irreverently 
used  as  a  doorway  through  which  one  may  pass  from  the  aisle  to  the 
choir.  Near  this  Early  English  monument  stands  Bishop  Barnet's,  a 
century  later  in  date  and  a  fine  example  of  the  Decorated  style ;  and  a 
still  more  splendid  one  in  the  same  style,  built  for  Bishop  Hotham,  was 
practically  intact  until  about  a  hundred  years  ago.  Then  Wyatt,  who 
counseled  the  destruction  of  the  Galilee-porch,  carefully  broke  it  apart; 
the  tomb  proper  now  stands  on  one  side  of  the  choir,  while  on  the 
other  side  stands  the  shrine  which  covered  it, — two-storied,  with  an 
open  lower  portion  for  the  tomb,  and  a  closed  upper  portion  which  was 
richly  carved  and  arranged  as  a  support  for  a  great  seven-branched 
candlestick.  Bishop  Redman  has,  however,  been  more  fortunate  than 
Hotham  ;  his  Perpendicular  monument  is  almost  perfect;  a  paneled 
tomb  supports  his  recumbent  figure  beneath  a  canopy  with  three  lace- 


2  20  Riiglish  Caflicih'ah. 

like  arches  and  an  elaborate  open  jjarapet.  Tlie  Early  English  sepul- 
chres of  Bishop  Northwold  antl  Bishop  Kilkenny,  and  the  Perpendicular 
sepulchre  of  Bishop  Louis  of  Luxembourg,  are  also  preserved;  and  in 
the  last  we  may  even  see  the  mutilated  headless  figure  of  its  tenant. 

But  it  would  be  impossible  to  go  through  the  whole  list  of  the  tombs 
and  brasses,  bearing  the  names  of  prelates,  priests  and  laymen,  wiiich 
fill  the  choir  of  Ely  with  historic  and  artistic  interest.  I  can  onl)-  note 
that  many  kinds  of  sentiment  found  expression  in  solemn  spots  like 
this  when  the  world  was  less  self-conscious  than  it  is  to-day.  As 
punning  crests  were  carved  on  episcopal  tombs,  as  monkish  sculptors 
satirized  their  brother  monks  on  capitals  and  choir-stalls,  so  laymen 
decreed  themselves  humorous  epitaphs  or  were  humorously  described 
by  their  survivors.  For  example,  only  a  few  years  ago  there  might 
still  be  read  in  Ely's  choir,  cut  on  a  small  brass  plate,  this  explanatory 
legend: 

(  'I'yndall  by  birth, 
Ursula     \  Coxee  by  choice, 

'  Uj^cher  in  age  and  for  comfort. 


It  dated,  I  believe,  from  the  seventeenth  ccnUir\.  W'liat  ciuirch  au- 
thorities in  the  nineteenth  would  sanction  one  tliat  resembled  it?  And 
yet  no  e])itaph  of  a  more  conventionally  decorous  sort  could  have  pre- 
served the  memory  of  departed  Ursula  so  well. 


VIII 

No  other  English  cathedral  has  a  west  front  which  resembles  Ely's; 
and  although  it  represents  a  type  that  is  common  in  parish  churches, 
this  type  was  seldom  adopted  in  Norman  times,  and  Ely's  facade  was 
built  just  as  the  Norman  style  was  dying.  When  both  of  its  turreted 
wings  were  standing,  and  before  the  Galilee-porch  concealed  its  lower 
central  portion,  its  effect  must  have  been  even  more  dignified  and  im- 
pressive than  it  is  to-day.  The  scheme,  like  that  of  so  many  other 
English  fronts,  is  open  to  the  charge  of  insincerity,  for  the  wings  ex- 
tend far  beyond  the  body  of  the  church  and  boldly  misrepresent  its 
breadth.  But  this  fact  is  less  distressing  where  they  are  so  manifestly 
subordinated  to  the  centre  than  where,  as  at  Lincoln  and  Salisbury, 
all  parts  of  the  front  are  given  almost  the  same  importance;  and,  con- 
sidered in  itself,  the  design  is  coherent,  well-proportioned,  and  majes- 
tic.    The  addition  of  the  porch,  beautiful  though  it  is,  must  have  been 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldrcda  and  St.  Pctcy — Ely.   221 

an  injury  rather  than  an  improvement ;  and,  moreover,  it  is  not  so 
beautiful  externally  as  internally.  Its  effectiveness  is  secured  by  de- 
vices which,  lacking  strong  constructional  emphasis,  are  more  deco- 
rative than  architectural.  The  upper  stage  of  the  tower,  it  should  be 
noted,  is  distinctly  inferior  to  the  rest ;  but  this  is  a  later  addition, 
dating  from  the  Decorated  period.  The  slender  wooden  spire  which 
was  also  built  at  this  time  was  removed  in  the  course  of  eighteenth- 
century  renovations. 

The  north  side  of  the  church  is  varied  and  beautiful.      In  many  of 
the  windows  of  the  long  Norman  nave  traceries  were  inserted  during 


THE  CATHEDRAL  AND  THE  LADY-CHAPEL,  FROM  THE  SOUTHEAST. 


Gothic  times.  Beyond  the  Xorman  transept-arm  lies  the  Decorated 
Lady-chapel ;  above  this  rise  the  late  Decorated  stories  of  the  choir 
proper,  and  the  fine  Early  English  bays  of  presbytery  and  retrochoir, 
each  buttress  crowned  by  a  lofty  fretted  pinnacle.  The  east  end  of 
the  church  groups  excellently  with  the  Lady-chapel.  It  contains  an 
upper  row  of  lancet-windows  which  are  not  visible  inside  the  church 
as  they  light  the  space  between  the  vaults  and  the  outer  roof  The 
additional  height  and  variety  thus  secured  add  much  to  the  beauty  of 


2  2  2  RiiglisJi  Cathedrals. 

the  design,  and  the  external,  far  more  than  the  internal,  aspect  of  Ely's 
east  end  convinces  us  that  a  flat  richly  windowed  wall  may  be  an  accept- 
able substitute  for  the  Continental  apse.  The  turrets  at  its  angles  are 
adorned  with  arcades  reproducing  the  forms  of  the  windows;  and  the 


nv^^vi*£i556i-s^'*»»*=-~'-^  ''■■ 


SOUTHWESTERN  PART  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM   A   GARDEN  IN  THE  CLOSE. 


Decorated  window  in  Bishop  Alcock's  chapel  and  the  Perpendicular  one 
in  Bishop  West's  hardly  injure  the  unity  of  the  composition,  while  they 
help  to  harmonize  it  with  the  adjacent  Lady-chapel.  I  remember  no 
other  characteristically  English  east  end  which  seemed  so  satisfying 
as  this  one  at  Ely.  The  southern  side  of  the  nave  closely  resembles 
the  northern  side,  but  gains  additional  picturesqueness  and  grandeur 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Etheldreda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.  221 


^-^r^.^v-t 


THE  CATHKDRAL,  FROM  THE  SOUTH. 


from  the  presence  of  the  turreted  wing  of  the  fagade  and  its  connecting 
chapel. 

There  are  many  points  of  view  whence  we  may  study,  rather  close  at 
hand,  the  effect  of  Walsiiigham's  lantern,  and,  a  little  further  off,  the  way 
in  which  it  groups  with  the  long  roof-lines  of  the  church  and  the  west- 
ern tower.  The  more  we  look  at  it  the  more  we  admire  it ;  and  an 
external  view  shows  even  better  than  an  internal  one  how  boldly  Alan 
worked,  cutting  away  walls  and  roofs  to  make  room  for  the  wide-spread- 
ing eight  sides  of  his  construction.  Here,  too,  we  realize  again  how 
fortunate  it  was  for  Ely  that  he  conceived  this  new  idea.  What  central 
feature  of  another  shape  could  harmonize  so  well  with  the  one  tall  west- 
ern tower?  At  Wimborne  in  Dorsetshire  we  can  see,  on  a  smaller  scale, 
the  effect  of  two  .square  towers  —  a  great  one  above  the  crossing,  a  les- 
ser one  at  the  western  end  of  the  minster;  and  it  has  irreverently  been 
compared  to  the  effect  of  a  tandem  team.  At  Ely  a  central  tower  of 
the  usual  English  sort  and   size  would  have   hopelessly  dwarfed  the 


2  24  English  Caf/iednj/s. 

western  tower;  one  of  the  usual  sort  but  smaller  would  have  deprived 
the  church's  outline  of  dignity  and  decision ;  and  in  neither  case  could 
there  have  been  between  the  two  that  genuine  concord  which  means 
unity  of  general  effect  secured  by  a  happy  contrasting  of  dissimilar  fea- 
tures. A  great  central  tower  groups  well  with  two  western  ones,  for 
the  doubling  of  these  gives  them  such  importance  that  they  are  not 
crushed  by  its  superior  size.  But  no  tower  of  a  shape  like  its  own 
could  have  grouped  well  with  the  single  western  tower  at  Ely,  while 
we  see  in  all  our  pictures,  and  especially  in  the  one  on  page  220,  how 
beautifully  it  combines  in  a  general  view  with  Alan's  octagon.  The 
bulk  and  richness  of  the  octagon  keep  it  from  being  dwarfed  by  the 
height  of  the  tower,  and  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  they  do  not  unduly 
dwarf  the  tower:  —  the  two  are  so  alike  in  dignity  yet  so  unlike  in 
character  that  neither  the  mind  nor  the  eye  feels  any  clashing  of  claims. 
I  do  not  mean  by  all  this  that  an  octagon  like  Alan's  could  not  be  well 
grouped  with  anything  except  a  single  tower;  —  the  famous  church  of 
St.  Ouen  at  Rouen  in  Normandy  suffices  to  show  that  it  may  be  admira- 
bly combined  with  a  western  pair.  I  only  mean  that  a  single  western 
tower  could  not  group  so  well  with  anything  but  this  octagon  ;  that  a 
church  with  such  a  tower  needs,  as  no  other  church  can,  just  such  a  cen- 
tral feature  as  the  one  which  Alan  built.  W'e  should  like  to  bring  him 
back  from  the  grave  to  tell  us  how  the  great  problem  presented  itself  to 
his  mind  —  to  tell  us  whether  he  viewed  it  as  we  do  in  analyzing  his 
result,  carefullv  weio-hins^  the  claims  of  external  and  internal  effect  and 
deciding  that  both  might  best  be  served  by  the  same  novel  expedient; 
or  whether,  as  seems  to  have  been  the  case  with  certain  other  English 
architects,  he  was  simply  bent  upon  producing  something  which,  in 
itself,  should  be  as  novel  and  as  beautiful  as  possible.  If  the  latter 
was  his  case,  good  luck  must  be  given  part  of  the  credit  for  the 
grandeur  of  Ely's  outline.  But  I,  for  one,  am  quite  ready  to  believe, 
without  his  own  witness,  that  this  admirable  Alan  knew  precisely  what 
he  w^as  about,  and  saw  as  clearly  as  we  can  just  what  Ely's  outline 
needed ;  for  he  was  a  great  architect,  not  merely  a  dreamer  of  gor- 
geous artistic  dreams  like  the  man  who  built  the  porch  at  Peter- 
borough, or  an  ambitious  scene-painter  in  stone  like  him  who  designed 
the  fa9ade  of  Lincoln. 

IX 

All  around  Ely  cathedral,  except  just  in  front,  the  grass  comes  close 
to  the  foundations  and  stretches  away  in  broad  law  ns ;  but  to  the  south- 


The  Cathedyal  of  St.  Ethddrcda  and  St.  Peter — Ely.  225 

ward,  undulating,  thickly  wooded,  and  park-like,  lies  the  main  portion 
of  the  close,  containing  many  fragments  of  the  old  conventual  buildings. 

Only  a  small  portion  is  left  of  the  cloister-quadrangle  which  ad- 
joined the  nave.  But  we  can  still  see  the  monks'  door  and  the  prior's 
door,  which  opened  from  it  into  the  south  aisle.  Both  are  of  Nor- 
man workmanship,  and  the  latter  is  an  unusually  rich  example  for 
England,  with  jambs  elaborately  wrought  in  patterns  that  seem  to 
show  a  lingering  Celtic  influence,  and  with  a  figure  of  Christ  sup- 
ported by  angels  in  the  tympanum  which  is  almost  Byzantine  in  effect. 
The  chapter-house  has  entirely  disappeared,  but  parts  of  the  late  Nor- 
man infirmary  are  preserved  and  ingeniously  utilized  in  the  same 
manner  as  at  Peterborough.  The  nave-like  central  area  now  forms  a 
roofless  street  between  the  canons'  modern  homes,  and  the  piers  and 
arches  which  divided  this  from  the  cells  are  worked  into  the  fabric  of 
their  walls.  One  house  has  been  made,  with  little  alteration,  from  a 
separate  hall  which  Walsingham  built  for  the  use  of  convalescents,  and 
the  or-reat  thirteenth-centurv  "Guesten  Hall"  has  been  transformed  into 
the  deanery.  Near  this  the  ancient  priory  stands  in  fragments,  while 
a  lovely  little  Decorated  chapel  is  still  entire.  It  bears  Prior  Crawdon's 
name,  but  we  may  well  believe  that  it  was  another  work  of  his  sacrist 
.Man.  It  is  now  the  chapel  of  the  grammar-school  or  college  which  was 
founded  by  Henry  \TI.  and  still  flourishes  under  ecclesiastical  control. 
The  school  itself  and  its  masters  are  housed  in  a  long  range  of  build- 
ings, forming  the  western  boundary  of  this  southern  part  of  the  close, 
into  which  are  built  multitudinous  remains  of  the  old  conventual  struc- 
tures. And  away  off"  to  the  southward  stands  Ely  Porta,  once  the  main 
gate  of  the  monastery;  altered  about  the  year  1400,  it  now  shows  a 
wide  archwa)-  with  a  large  room  above. 

The  bishop's  palace,  facing  on  the  lawn  which  lies  across  the  street 
to  the  westward  of  the  church,  dates  chiefly  from  the  time  of  Henry 
\T1. — that  is,  from  the  time  of  that  Bishop  Alcock  who  did  his  architec- 
ture for  himself  The  turreted  wings  which  he  built  are  still  standing, 
but  his  huge  hall  has  disappeared  and  likewise  his  great  galleries,  one 
of  which  bridged  the  street  and  connected  the  palace  with  the  cathedral. 

It  is  a  quaint  yet  beautiful  and  stately  pile,  this  palace;  and  Prior 
Crawdon's  chapel  and  all  the  adjacent  school-buildings  are  delightfully 
picturesque  —  not  imposing  like  the  palace,  but  low  and  vine-clad,  gray 
and  peaceful,  wholly  and  distinctively  English  in  their  charm.  Even  a 
hurrying  school-boy  whom  we  met  one  sunny  afternoon  could  see  the 
pleasure  in  our  eyes;  and  it  seemed  only  natural  that  he  should  exclaim, 


226 


English  Catlicihah. 


amid  many  pretty  lilushcs,  "  Vou  arc  quite  welcome  to  sketch  tlie  houses 
if  you  want  to  —  ahiiost  everybody  does!" 

One  of  the  best  views  of  the  cathedral  is  from  the  railroad  station ; 
looking  northwestward,  we  see  it  in  the  near  middle  distance,  and  re- 
alize its  enormous  length,  the  grace  of  its  octagon,  and  the  stern  maj- 
esty of  the  tall  tower  which  rises  like  a  great  cliff  in  a  land  where  man 
might  well  build  cliffs  since  nature  had  built  none.  Another  is  from 
a  mound  called  Cherr\  llill,  in  the  southern  close,  where  we  see  the 
whole  length  again,  but  over  massy  sweeps  of  foliage.  And  still  another 
is  from  an  elevation  where  the  water-works  of  the  town  have  liecn  con- 
structed, some  two  miles  away  to  the  west.  Hut  there  is,  in  truth,  no 
spot  whence  the  great  monarch  of  the  fenlands  may  not  be  admiral)ly 
seen  until  we  get  so  far  off  that  it  drops  behind  the  horizon's  rim. 
Wherever,  however  it  may  reveal  itself  it  is  alwa\s  immense,  impos- 
ing, majestic;  and  only  upon  the  plains  of  Egypt  or  Mesopotamia  has 
nature  assisted  the  effect  of  man's  work  by  such  entire  suppression  of 
herself. 


ELY.  FROM    UNDER   THE   RAILWAY    BRIDGE. 


Chapter  IX 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  ANDREW  —  WELLS 


^ 

■^,.7^ 

^^ 

V 

^^^ 

y^ 

^^^ 

HEN  the  traveler  opens  the  great  scrap-book  he 
calls  memory,  the  pictures  which  impress  him 
most  are  sure  to  be  those  that  were  painted  in 
by  some  vivid  or  peculiar  effect  of  light.  Such 
to  me  are  the  memories  of  \'esuvian  slopes  at 
midnight  with  lava-streams  burning  their  red 
smoke  above,  and  the  Bay  of  Naples,  lighted  by 
a  pale  moon,  below ;  of  the  southern  point  of 
Greece  as  we  rounded  it  after  a  storm,  Cerigo  showing  black  in  the 
south  against  a  crimson  sky,  and  Cape  Malea  rising  in  the  north, 
a  vast  sheer  precipice  of  purple ;  of  Avignon  as  we  came  down  the 
Rhone,  which  flashed  pink  in  a  setting  July  sun  while  the  yellow  dia- 
dem of  towers  was  pink  for  the  moment  too;  of  the  Nile  and  the  desert 
when  it  was  hard  to  say  which  was  whiter  under  a  strong  morning  light; 
of  the  mid-Atlantic  in  June,  when  it  was  impossible  to  say  whether  the 
sky  or  the  water  was  more  astonishingly  blue.  And  with  these  pictures 
ranks  the  cathedral  close  at  Wells  as  I  first  saw  it,  in  one  of  those  rare 
tender  sunsets  when  a  rosy  mist  fills  the  air  and  makes  the  greens  of 
nature  like  those  we  sometimes  find  in  ancient  tapestries. 

Wells  lies  low  in  a  wide  rich  valley  set  around  with  hills  of  varied 
outline,  the  rocky  Mendips  backing  it,  and  the  peak  of  Glastonbury  ris- 
ing over  marshlands  to  the  southward.  At  some  distance  from  the 
cathedral  towers  springs  the  splendid  Perpendicular  tower  of  St.  Cuth- 
bert's  Church,  and  between  stretch  quiet  low-browed  streets,  widening 
out  into  a  market-place  before  one  of  the  gateways  of  the  close.  Enter- 
ing this  gate,  we  see  the  cathedral  a  little  to  the  northward,  with  its 
sculptured  front  looking  on  a  wide  level  lawn  bounded  by  a  wall  and 
a  low  line  of  houses.  Close  to  its  northern  side,  when  we  have  crossed 
the  lawn,  runs  a  broad  street  spanned  by  a  bridge-like  building  which 
springs  from  the  transept-end  to  the  entrance  of  the  Vicars'  Close,  a 


•28 


English  Cathedrals. 


VfTi"l  'M-  U- . J W" » *• 


\\LLI,>,    1  KU.M    nil.    .NciKllll.Abl. 


'i" 


■I 


i<."-l*i 


double  row  of  ancient  little  homes.  The  chapter-house  lies  just  beyond 
the  bridi^e.  Beyond  the  east  end  of  the  church  comes  the  lower  roof 
of  its  Lady-chapel;  its  southern  sitle  overlooks  tlur  most  lovely  wide 
gardens  in  the  work! ;  in  these  gardens,  near  a  natural  fountain  which 
forms  a  big  pool,^  falls  in  white  cascades,  and  fills  a  moat,  there  rises, 
with  the  water  around  its  feet,  a  palace  smothered  in  vines  and  trees; 
and  beyond  the  gardens  and  the  moat  run  avenues  of  mighty  elms. 

As  we  made  this  circuit,  partly  inside,  partly  outside  the  close,  and 
at  last  along  the  shady  avenues,  all  things  grew  mysterious  and  super- 
nal as  the  afterglow  deepened  in  the  sky,  more  and  more  suffused  the 
air.  and  softened  local  colors  in  a  radiance!  that  was  neither  pink  nor 
gray  nor  green,  but  everywhere  seemed  to  have  a  tinge  of  all  three 
tones.  Everything  was  quite  distinct,  \et  we  rubbed  f)ur  eyes  as  though 
a  veil  of  gauze  were  hiding  realities  that  could  not  be  so  fair.  It  was 
romance  made  tangil)le.  Here  was  indeed  the  palace  of  enchantment, 
without  a  discordant  feature,  and  with  no  possible  feature  lacking,  even 

1  The  name  of  the  town  comes  from  this  fountain,  and  in  the  old  Latin  chronicles  is  Fontana. 


The  Cathedml  of  St.  Andreiv  —  IVells. 


229 


to  spellbound  princes  who  swam  about  as  swans  among  the  lilies  of  the 
moat.  There  was  not  a  person  to  be  seen,  and  often  not  a  glimpse  of  any 
world  beyond  this  roseate  silent  park.  Nature  and  art,  blended  toge- 
ther, were  existing  simply  for  themselves  ;  and  the  stillness  and  glamour 
seemed  so  ancient,  so  miraculous  and  seductive,  that  at  last  one  thought 


\ 


THL    MOAT. 


of  escape  for  safety.  An  hour  of  such  bewitchment  and — who  knows?  — 
we  too  might  be  swans  on  the  moat,  or  swallows  in  the  air,  or  stone 
figures  under  a  stone  canopy  forever.' 


When  a  bishop  of  the  West  Saxons  was  seated  at  Winchester  in  the 
year  635,  the  district  we  call  Somerset  was  almost  wholly  in  the  hands 

1  A  most  excellent  handbook  can  be  procured  at  "  History  of  the  Cathedral  Church  of  Wells  as 
Wells,  and  one  which  will  be  helpful  in  the  study  Illustr.iting  the  History  of  the  Cathedr.il  Churches 
of  other  English  cathedrals  —  Professor  Freeman's       of  the  Old  Foundation." 


230  Eiig/is/i  Cathedrals. 

of  the  Welsh,  or  ancient  British,  inhabitants.  Gradually  the  West- 
Saxon  rule  extended,  and  out  of  the  diocese  of  Winchester  was  cut  the 
one  which  had  its  cathedral  first  at  Sherborne  and  afterward  at  Salis- 
bury. But  it  was  not  until  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Elder,  about  the 
year  909,  that  there  was  need  for  further  subdivision. 

The  new  bishop,  whose  successors  became  Bishops  of  Bath  and  Wells, 
was  then  called  Bishop  of  the  Sumorscetas  merely  ;  and  though  the  old 
Roman  town  of  Bath  stood  within  the  northern  limits  of  his  diocese,  and 
though  the  new  English  stronghold  of  Taunton  stood  near  its  southern 
skirts,  his  chair  was  placed  midway  between  them  at  Wells.  Here  his- 
tory shows  us  only  a  church,  dedicated  to  St.  Andrew,  and  a  collegiate 
house,  although  legend  declares  that  the  house  had  existed  since  the 
time  of  King  Ina,  two  centuries  before,  and  for  a  while  had  served  a 
bishop  whom  he  established.  Thus  once  more  we  learn  that  the  needs 
of  the  tribe  as  a  whole,  not  the  claims  of  any  city,  were  first  considered 
by  the  organizers  of  the  English  Church,  the  best  cathedral  site,  to  their 
eyes,  being  the  most  central.  Onl\  two  miles  from  Wells  stood  another 
ecclesiastical  house  of  much  greater  age  and  fame  and  sanctity,  where, 
through  centuries  of  heathen  invasion.  King  Arthur's  memory  and  the 
practice  of  his  faith  had  been  preserved.  Much  of  this  region  was  then 
marsli  and  water,  surrountling  dry  elevated  spots;  and  Glastonbury's 
mount  was  a  veritable  island,  liie  Isle  of  .Avalon.  Ely  proves  that  just 
such  a  s]iot  might  sometimes  be  chosen  for  a  cathedral  site;  but  the 
Somerset  planners  thought  more  of  accessibility,  and  Wells  was  pre- 
ferred to  a  place  where  the  bishop  and  those  who  sought  him  would 
have  been  forced  to  depend  on  boats. 

Duduc,  who  ruled  from  1033  ^'^  1060,  was  the  first  prelate  of  any  note. 
When  he  died  he  wished  to  leave  his  private  possessions  to  his  church ; 
Harold,  as  earl  of  the  district,  took  them  for  his  own  ;  and  out  of  this 
seed  of  fact  grew  the  picturesque  legend  that  we  all  learned  at  school 
—  how  Harold  plundered  the  church  at  Wells  and  drove  its  bishop 
and  priests  into  banishment.  Gisa,  a  Lotharingian,  succeeded  Duduc. 
Without  compelling  his  clergy  to  take  monastic  vows,  he  built  a  cloister 
and  other  needful  structures  and  made  them  live  in  common.  William 
the  Conqueror  did  not  disturb  him,  but  when  Gisa  died,  in  1088,  Wil- 
liam Rufus  put  a  Frenchman  in  his  place,  John  de  Villula  from  Tours; 
and  the  first  act  of  the  foreigner  was  to  imitate  in  his  diocese  the  invari- 
able condition  of  things  abroad.  He  took  his  chair  from  the  isolated 
church  of  St.  Andrew,  and  set  it  in  the  church  of  St.  Peter  within  the 
walls  of  Bath.     This  church  he  reconstructed,  and  in  it  he  was  buried. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  Wells. 


231 


while  all  he  did  at  Wells  was  to  pull  down  Gisa's  works  and  build  him- 
self a  palace  with  their  stones.  The  church  of  Wells  was  no  longer  a 
cathedral,  its  chapter  was  broken  and  scattered,  and  the  bishop  who 
still  ruled  it  was  Bishop  of  Bath.    But  the  next  prelate  but  one  —  Robert, 


4A        *1J#«% 


? 


WELLS,    FROM   THE   SOUTH. 


born  in  England  of  Flemish  parents — united  old  and  recent  claims;  his 
title  was  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells ;  he  had  a  chair  in  St.  Andrew's 
and  one  in  St.  Peter's,  and  it  was  settled  that  his  successors  should  be 
chosen  by  the  secular  canons  of  the  former  and  the  monkish  canons  of 
the  latter,  all  voting  together.  During  the  Reformation  the  chair  at 
Bath  was  suppressed.  Since  then  the  cathedral  at  Wells  has  stood  alone 
as  it  did  before  the  time  of  John  of  Tours.  But,  with  the  usual  English 
love  for  symbols  from  which  the  life  has  long  departed,  the  prelate  who 
is  enthroned  in  St.  Andrew's  is  still  called  Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells. 

Bishop  Robert  had  been  a  monk  and  subabbot  at  Glastonbury,  but 
he  made  no  effort  to  bring  monks  into  the  close  at  Wells.  Indeed,  now 
that  Gisa's  buildings  were  gone,  each  canon  returned  to  his  own  home. 


232 


English  Cathcdyals. 


where  forever  after  he  dwelt  in  peace,  with  separate  emoluments  and 
dignities  as  well  as  a  share  in  those  which  the  chapter,  as  such,  came  to 
hold  in  independence  of  the  bishop.  At  first,  whether  a  cathedral  chap- 
ter were  secular  or  monastic,  the  bishop  was  its  immediate  head.  But 
as  the  pride  of  the  house  ami  the  outside  responsibilities  of  the  bishop 
increased,  a  dean  was  placed  over  a  secular  chapter  and  a  prior  over  a 

monastic;  the  prelate  had  only  indirect 
control,  and  sometimes  there  was  war  be- 
tween him  and  those  whose  chief  care 
should  have  been  to  serve  his  needs. 
Robert  appointed  a  dean  and  a  precentor 
at  Wells,  and  possibly  some  of  the  other 
dignitaries — the  subdcan,  chancellor,  and 
treasurer.  In  his  time  there  were,  in  all, 
twenty-two  canons.  Later,  the  number 
rose  to  fifty;  it  remains  the  same  to-day. 


TI 

Ik  a  church  actu- 
ally stood  at  Wells 
in  the  eighth  cen- 
tury, it  can  hardly 
have  survived  until 
the  Norman  Con- 
quest. P)Ul  the 
building  into  which 
Robert  brought 

back  his  cathcdja 
was  of  Old  English 
origin,  and  perhaps 
as  ancient  as  the 
establishment  of  the  see  in  909.  It  was  in  a  ruinous,  dangerous 
state,  and  Robert  either  repaired  or  rebuilt  it.  We  cannot  say 
positively  what  he  did,  for  written  records  are  vague  and  confused, 
and  no  stone  of  his  placing  survives.  But  it  seems  probable  that  at 
least  certain  parts  of  the  Old  English  church  remained  at  his  death, 
although    this    was    in    1166,  just    a    hundred    years    after   the    Con- 

1  Wells  Cathedral  is  385  feet  long  inside  the  walls  and  135  feet  across  the  transept.     The  fa9ade  is  147  feet 
6  inches  in  breadth.     The  chapter-house  is  52  feet  6  inches  in  diameter  and  42  feet  in  height. 


PLAN  OF  THE  CATHEDRAL  CHURCH  AT  WELLS." 

A.  Navc-  IJ.  C.  Chapels  under  western  towers.  D,  North  porch.  E,  F, 
Transept.  G.  Choir.  H.  Presbytery.  K,  Kelroclioir.  L,  Lady-chapel. 
M,  High-altar.  P,  Chapter-house.  S.  t'loisler,  1,  Bishop  Budwith's 
chantry.  a.  Dean  Sugar's  chantry.  4,  Part  of  Bishop  Heckington's 
chantry.  9,  Monument  of  Bishop  Button  H.  ro,  Effigy  uf  Bishop  Beckington. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew — PVells.  233 

quest,  when  almost  everywhere  else  in  England  relics  of  pre-Norman 
times  had  long  disappeared  from  cathedral  sites ;  and  it  is  certain  that 
whatever  then  remained  stood  for  half  a  century  longer.  Savaric,  who 
ruled  from  1192  to  1205,  forcibly  possessed  himself  of  Glastonbury,  and 
there  placed  a  third  episcopal  chair,  so  that  Joceline,  who  succeeded  him 
and  ruled  until  1242,  signed  Magna  Charta  as  "Bishop  of  Bath  and 
Glastonbury."  But  this  was  a  transitory  change  ;  episcopal  claims  upon 
the  abbey  were  soon  bought  off,  and  Joceline  devoted  himself  to  the  in- 
terests of  his  church  at  Wells.  This  he  began  to  rebuild,  and  the  work 
was  so  thoroughly  done  that  no  more  trace  remained  of  Norman  than 
of  Saxon  art.  The  choir,  the  transept,  and  most  of  the  nave  of  the 
new  building  seem  to  have  been  finished  by  Joceline  himself,  and,  though 
the  west  front  was  left  for  a  later  hand,  he  also  constructed  a  cloister  of 
which  certain  parts  are  still  preserved.  The  lower  story  of  the  chapter- 
house, with  the  bridge  which  joins  it  to  the  church,  was  completed  by 
1290,  and  its  upper  part  about  ten  years  later.  Early  in  the  fourteenth 
century  the  east  limb  of  the  church  was  enlarged  and  altered,  and  the 
way  in  which  this  work  was  done  shows  how  carefully  mediaeval  builders 
guarded  against  undue  disturbance  of  a  church's  usefulness. 

Joceline's  choir  consisted  of  three  bays  and  a  terminal  apse  or  chapels. 
The  present  one  consists  of  five  bays,  a  retrochoir  embracing  a  small 
second  transept,  and  a  polygonal  Lady-chapel.  First  the  Lady-chapel 
was  built,  then  the  retrochoir,  and  then  the  two  adjoining  bays,  while, 
we  may  believe,  Joceline's  east  wall  remained  untouched.  Then  the  two 
additional  bays  of  the  choir  proper  were  constructed,  and  were  joined  to 
Joceline's  three  after  his  east  wall  had  been  pulled  down.  And,  finally, 
the  upper  portions  of  these  three  were  reconstructed  to  bring  their 
Early  English  aspect  into  harmony  with  the  aspect  of  the  new  construc- 
tions where  the  Decorated  style  had  been  employed.  The  singers' 
choir,  which  of  course  had  stood  in  the  crossing  beneath  the  central 
tower,  was  now  removed  into  Joceline's  part  of  the  choir,  formerly 
the  presbytery ;  and  the  two  new  bays  became  the  presbytery,  divided 
by  the  high  altar  from  the  retrochoir.  The  Lady-chapel  seems  to  have 
been  finished  by  1325,  and  the  whole  work  by  1350.  Ralph  of  Shrews- 
bury was  the  bishop  from  1323  to  1364  ;  and  he  also  founded  the  Vicars' 
Close,  and  constructed  the  walls  and  moat  around  the  palace,  which  had 
been  greatly  enlarged  some  fifty  years  before.  By  1321  the  central 
tower  had  been  carried  to  its  present  height,  the  southwestern  one 
was  raised  before  the  end  of  the  century,  and  the  northwestern  one  by 
the  year  1450.     All  doubtless  once  supported  spires  of  wood  and  lead. 


234  English  Cathedrals. 

Thus  the  cathedral  church  at  Wells,  unlike  the  one  at  Salisbury,  was 
not  a  new  creation  on  a  new  site.  Yet,  unlike  most  of  its  other  sisters, 
it  was  not  t^rradually  transformed  by  the  rebuilding  of  parts  some  of 
which  survived  in  their  first  shape  much  longer  than  others.  In  the 
Early  English  period,  just  when  Salisburj-  was  arising,  the  old  church 
at  Wells  was  swept  away  and  entirely  rebuilt ;  before  the  end  of  the 
Decorated  period  the  new  one  had  been  sufficiently  enlarged,  and  stood 
complete  with  the  exception  of  its  towers;  and  as  it  then  appeared,  so, 
with  very  little  change,  it  has  come  down  to  the  present  day.  It  is 
therefore  another  cathedral  which  may  best  be  examined  with  Salisbury, 
Lichfield.  Lincoln,  and  Ely.  before  we  pass  to  those  wliich  will  explain 
the  Perpendicular  style.  And  its  Early  English  portions  have  especial 
interest  as  departing  from  the  type  which  everywhere  else  prevails. 

One  reason  for  thinking  that  Bishop  Robert  only  repaired  the  Saxon 
cathedral  is  the  comparatively  small  size  of  the  present  building.  When 
a  Norman  reconstructed  he  worked  on  a  very  grand  scale;  but  here, 
although  the  church  is  larger  than  its  predecessor,  it  is  nevertheless 
exceptionally  small.  Wells  measures  only  338  feet  from  its  western  to 
its  eastern  wall,  and  onl\  385  feet  if  we  include  the  Lady-chapel.  But 
the  Norman  church  at  (Gloucester  measures  406  feet  without  its  inde- 
pendent Lady-chapel;  at  Winchester,  where  the  Lady-chapel  is  small, 
the  total  length  is  525  feet ;  and  at  Salisbury,  where  the  chapel  resembles 
the  one  at  Wells,  we  find  450  feet.  Lichfield,  the  smallest  of  all  the 
English  cathedrals,  is  only  four  feet  shorter  than  Wells. 


Ill 

I.N  the  design  of  its  nave  this  cathedral  difters  from  all  others  in  Eng- 
land. Elsewhere  above  each  of  the  pier-arches  we  see  one  or  two  great 
arches  in  the  triforium-story.  most  often  with  smaller  ones  variou.sly 
arranged  within  th(Mn.  Thus  groups  of  apertures  are  formed  which, 
corresponding  with  the  pier-arches  below  and  the  divisions  of  the  clear- 
story and  vaulting  above,  give  definiteness  and  unity  to  each  successive 
bay.  Each  bay,  taken  from  floor  to  ceiling,  is  not,  indeed,  a  separate 
composition  to  be  thought  of  apart  from  the  others ;  yet  the  eye  readily 
notes  its  individuality,  and  sees  the  whole  interior  as  composed  of  a  suc- 
cession of  well-marked  divisions.  But  at  Wells  the  triforium-arches  run 
from  end  to  end  of  the  wall  in  an  unbroken,  unvaried  series.  Such  a 
scheme  is  used  in  Great  Britain  onl\  in  these  southwestern  districts,  as 
here  at  Wells,  at  Glastonburv,  and  in  the  cathedral  church  at  Llandaff 


The  CafJiedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  PVells. 


-jD 


in  Wales.  But  we  find  it  at  Caen,  on  the  Xorman  mainland,  in  the 
Norman  church  built  by  William  the  Conqueror's  wife  Matilda,  although 
William's  own  contemporaneous  church  in  the  same  town  displays 
the  more  common  triforium  scheme.  Of  course  it  is  impossible  to  say 
whether  this  Norman  precedent  influenced  the  men  who  worked  in 
southwestern  England ;  but  we  can  easily  believe  it,  seeing  how 
strongly  some  foreign  influence  has  affected  other  features  at  Wells. 
The  arch-mouldings  are  rich,  but  less  boldly  treated  than  in  thor- 
oughly English  work  of  the  time ;  the  shafts  which  encircle  the  piers 
are  more  closely  grouped  with  the  central  member ;  the  leafage  of 
the  capitals,  although  English  in  type,  has  a  classic  feeling  more  often 
perceived  in  Continental  lands  ;  and  the  square  form  is  used  for  abaci 
and  bases. 

But  if  we  look  again  we  see  that  Englishmen  seldom  imitated  liter- 
ally, and  also  that  their  innovations  were  not  always  improvements. 
The  vaulting-ribs  spring  from  corbels,  formed  of  clusters  of  little 
columns,  which  are  set  on  the  clearstory  string-course.  The  effect  is 
even  less  organic  than  when  such  corbels  are  placed  lower  down  ;  and 
it  is  especially  bad  at  Wells  on  account  of  the  unaccentuated  character 
of  the  triforium-arcade.  Even  in  Queen  Matilda's  Norman  church, 
built  fifty  years  before,  there  is  a  nearer  approach  to  Gothic  construc- 
tional ideas ;  for  there  great  vaulting-shafts  run  from  floor  to  ceiling, 
uniting  the  stories  and  distinguishing  the  successive  bays.  No  feature 
in  the  nave  of  Wells  expresses  verticality  or  accents  the  inter-relation- 
ship of  the  three  stories:  all  the  strong  lines  are  horizontal.  Each 
story  is  charming  in  itself,  but,  as  I  have  often  said,  no  parts  or  features 
in  Gothic  work  can  be  appraised  in  and  for  themselves  alone.  Organic 
inter-relationship  is  the  essence  of  perfect  Gothic  design  ;  and  so  we 
cannot  apply  this  term  to  the  nave  of  Wells,  beautiful  though  we  may 
esteem  it.  It  is  beautiful  in  its  own  way,  owing  to  exceptional  success 
in  all  matters  of  proportion.  It  is  not  so  long  that  it  seems  deficient 
in  breadth  or  even  in  altitude;  each  of  its  stories  is  appropriate  in 
height  to  the  height  of  the  others;  and  the  size  of  their  features  is  well 
adapted  to  an  interior  of  these  dimensions. 

There  is  no  shafting  at  all  in  the  triforium ;  the  arches  are  merely 
enframed  in  roll-mouldings  without  bases,  very  much  as  are  those  in 
Queen  Matilda's  church.  Only,  above  the  actual  mouldings  of  each 
arch  runs  a  more  independent  one,  ending  below  in  a  carved  head  or 
boss  of  foliage, — the  characteristically  English  drip-stone.  Sculptured 
medallions  fill  the  spandrels  between  the  arch-heads,  and  the  heads 


236 


Eiialish  Catlicdmls. 


VS 


themselves  are  filled  by  small  ornamental  t\  mpana.  The  window- 
traceries,  which  we  see  in  the  clearstor\  in  the  picture  on  this  page, 
and  can  divine  in  the  aisles  as  well,  are  of  Perpendicular  design  and 
were  inserted  in  the  fifteenth  century. 

Across  the  western  wall  of  the  nave  runs  an  arcade  of  five  arches, 
four  of  them  blank,  but  the  central  one  pierced  by  the  principal  door- 


THE  NAVE,    FROM  THE  NORTH  AISLE. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew — Wells.  237 

way.  Above  are  the  three  tall  narrow  windows  which  show  in  our  pic- 
ture of  the  exterior  of  the  front,  filled  with  glass  which  was  brought 
from  the  Continent  in  the  eighteenth  century  and  has  very  little  merit. 
From  the  side  of  each  aisle,  near  its  end,  opens  a  square  chapel  form- 
ing the  first  story  of  the  tower  which  flanks  the  fagade. 

A  change  in  the  character  of  the  masonry  and  of  the  sculptured 
details  appears  between  the  fourth  and  fifth  piers  of  the  nave,  counting 
from  the  west.  It  marks  no  change  in  style  ;  it  merely  shows  that  the 
whole  nave  was  not  erected  at  once.  But  the  western  wall  and  the 
tower-chapels  really  differ  from  the  rest  of  the  nave  in  style.  Here  the 
work  resembles  the  Early  English  work  of  other  districts,  in  its  round 
abaci,  in  the  treatment  of  its  carved  foliage,  and  in  the  black  marble 
used  for  its  minor  shafts.  It  is  natural  to  fancy  that  the  half-foreign, 
so-called  "Somerset  manner"  of  building  was  employed  in  this  district 
when  the  pointed  arch  first  replaced  the  round,  but  that  it  did  not  long 
persist,  pressed  upon  by  the  weight  of  common  English  practice ;  and 
to  conclude  that  the  nave  was  built  while  it  reigned  and  that  the  west 
front  shows  the  triumph  of  the  typical  English  manner.  But  an  ar- 
chitect who  has  had  a  better  chance  than  any  one  else  to  study  the 
question  declares  that  the  west  front  is  older  than  the  nave.  On  both 
structural  and  artistic  evidence  he  believes  that  the  front,  with  the  three 
bays  which  adjoin  it,  was  built  before  Joceline's  time,  standing  in  ad- 
vance of  the  undisturbed  old  Norman  facade.  Joceline,  he  thinks,  then 
raised  the  easterly  bays  of  the  nave  with  the  transept  and  choir;  and 
after  his  death  the  old  front  was  pulled  down,  and  the  two  portions  of 
the  new  nave  were  connected,  the  three  westerly  (or  oldest)  bays  being 
then  largely  reconstructed,  and  the  point  of  juncture  occurring  where, 
as  I  have  said,  differences  in  workmanship  are  still  apparent. 

If,  now,  we  look  at  the  transept,  we  again  find  diversities  of  design. 
Its  end  walls  resemble  the  nave,  the  triforium  being  of  the  same  pattern 
though  more  simply  worked.  But  along  its  sides,  in  both  the  northern 
and  the  southern  arm,  the  triforium-arches  are  grouped  in  pairs  in  the 
customary  English  way.  The  e.xplanation  is  that  the  vault  or  spire 
(tholus)  which,  the  old  chroniclers  record,  fell  in  the  year  1248,  soon 
after  Bishop  Joceline's  death,  must  have  been  the  central  tower;  and 
that  in  its  fall  it  must  have  carried  away  the  greater  part  of  the  tran- 
sept. The  nave  also  suffered,  but  probably  in  a  lesser  degree ;  it  has 
evidently  been  repaired,  but  its  original  design  was  not  changed. 

To  repeat:  the  nave,  though  palpably  built  at  difterent  times,  is  all 
in  the  "  Somerset  manner,"  and  so  are  the  transept-ends;  the  sides  of 


238  EnglisJi  CatJiCih'ah. 

the  transept,  certainly  later  in  date,  are  not  in  this  manner,  but  neither 
is  the  western  end  of  tliL'  nave,  and  this,  on  the  best  authority,  is  the 
earliest  part  of  all.  It  is  an  interesting  puzzle,  for  hardly  anywhere 
else  in  England  do  we  find  proof  of  those  conflicts  between  contempo- 
rary local  manners  which  often  appear  on  the  Continent.  There  each 
district  had  an  indigenous  art  of  its  own;  from  earliest  days  this  grew 
and  developed  in  an  individual  waj  until  the  perfected  Gothic  of  the 
domainc  royal  finally  overspread  all  France  and  penetrated  all  other 
western  lands;  but,  as  it  developed,  it  was  sometimes  influenced  more 
or  less  by  the  art  of  neighboring  districts  or  by  the  hand  of  imported 
artists.  In  England,  on  the  contrar)-,  Norman  architecture  was  im- 
ported in  a  fully  developed  shape,  and  spread  from  end  to  end  of  the 
country,  varying  here  and  there  in  certain  respects,  but  not  displaying 
distinct  provincial  manners.  So,  too,  it  was  when  the  Gothic  style  ap- 
peared. The  scheme,  indeed,  was  not  again  borrowed  entire;  it  was 
taken  in  embryo,  and  a  more  national  art  was  born  from  it.  But  this 
art  developed  alike  over  the  whole  country,  if  we  except — I  think  it  is 
the  only  exception  —  the  southwestern  district  whose  local  manner  is 
expressed  in  the  nave  of  Wells.  And  it  seems  as  though  even  this 
Somerset  manner  never  ruled  in  an  untlisputed  way.  It  seems  as 
though  two  schools  of  architects,  as  we  should  say  to-day,  or  two  com- 
panies of  builders,  as  we  should  have  said  in  the  thirteenth  centur\-, 
must  have  worked  in  rivalry,  now  the  one  and  now  the  other  getting 
the  upper  hand  in  the  cathedral  church.  If  we  recognize  such  an  ex- 
ception to  the  usual  course  of  things  in  England,  we  can  accept  any 
date  for  any  portion  of  the  nave  and  transept  which  the  best  authorities 
give;  but  "if  we  reject  it,  and  think  that  all  the  work  in  one  style 
must  be  earlier  than  all  in  the  other,  we  are  left  in  a  puzzle  indeed. 


IV 

Over  the  crossing  at  Wells  there  is  no  lantern  carrying  the  eye  up 
into  the  central  tower;  instead,  there  is  a  low  vault  of  rich  Perpendic- 
ular tracery.  And  between  the  four  piers  which  support  the  tower 
stretch  four  great  curious-looking  constructions  —  each  formed  of  a 
large  arch  inverted  upon  the  apex  of  another  arch  —  which  at  first  sight 
we  may  take  for  screens.  But  they  are  not  screens;  they  are  simply 
props  or  braces.  In  the  year  1321  the  three  upper  stages  of  the  tower 
were  built,  and  in  one  of  them  a  heavy  chime  of  bells  was  hung.  Six- 
teen years  later  the  tower  had  settled  so  badly  that  alarming  fissures 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andyeiu  —  PVells. 


239 


ran  from  the  toi)s  of  the  great  supporting  arches,  distorting  all  the  ad- 
jacent parts  of  the  church,  and  the  piers  seemed  sinking  bodily  into  the 
ground.     The  case,  we  know,  was  not  uncommon.     Sometimes  it  could 


THE   NAVE,  LOOKING   EAS  F. 


be  remedied  by  a  mere  enlargement  of  the  four  angle-piers;  and  at 
other  times  recourse  was  had  to  those  straight  transverse  props  which 
we  have  seen  at  Salisbury  and  Canterbury.  The  device  employed  at 
Wells  is  unique;  it  is  bolder  and  more  ingenious  than  any  other;   and 


240 


EuglisJi  Cathedrals. 


it  is  evident])-  more  effectual.  Therefore  it  is  more  interesting,  and 
Professor  Freeman,  for  one,  tliinks  that  it  is  also  more  artistic  as  less 
conspicuously  at  variance  with  the  effect  of  the  surrounding  work.  Hut 
could  anything  be  more  conspicuous,  more  startling,  than  these  gigantic 
twice-contrasted  curves,  repeating  the  mighty  sweep  of  the  tall  tower- 


#;'ilTO^ 


^'  \M' 


THE  CHOIR.  LOOKING  EAST. 


arches?  Do  the  straight  beams  at  Salisbury  as.sert  themselves  half  so 
]ilainly  as  after-thoughts  prescribed  by  an  insistent  structural  need? 
1  he  one  real  argument  in  their  favor  is  purely  sentimental.  The  church 
is  dedicated  to  St.  Andrew,  and,  whether  by  accident  or  design,  they 
suggest  the  shape  of  a  "St.  .Andrew's  cross."     A  glance  at  our  ground- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew — Wells.  241 

plan  shows  that  the  piers  themselves  were  strengthened  when  these 
props  were  built.  The  dark  spots  indicate  the  original  size  of  the  piers, 
and  the  lighter  shading  gives  the  amount  of  their  enlargement.  The 
triforium-arches  next  these  piers  were  filled  with  solid  stone  at  the  same 
time,  and  for  the  same  imperative  reason. 

Over  the  inverted  arch  of  the  brace  in  the  picture  on  p.  239,  and 
beneath  the  fifteenth-century  fan-vault  of  the  crossing,  we  get  a  glimpse 
of  another  rich  ceiling  covering  the  choir;  and  the  illustration  on  p.  240 
shows  it  more  plainly.  It  is  not  a  pointed  vault  of  any  customary  pat- 
tern, but  a  coved  or  barrel-vault  merely  pierced  at  the  sides  to  give 
place  for  the  clearstory  windows.  Such  a  form  is  frequent  in  wooden 
ceilings,  but  is  very  infrequent  in  those  of  stone  if  they  date  from  any 
period  later  than  the  Norman.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  a  reason  for  its 
use  in  such  a  place  as  this,  in  the  full-blown  Gothic  time.  The  effect 
of  its  low  roundish  curve  is  heavy  and  crushing ;  its  form  does  not  har- 
monize with  the  pointed  features  beneath  it,  and,  moreover,  has  been 
wholly  disregarded  in  the  design  of  the  elaborate  rib-work  with  which 
it  is  covered  and  which  plays  a  decorative,  not  a  constructional  role. 

In  the  choir-bays  next  the  tower,  seen  in  the  foreground  of  the  same 
picture,  we  find  Joceline's  Early  English  work  in  the  pier-arcade  with 
its  square  abaci  and  close-grouped  shafts.  But,  as  we  know,  the  stories 
above  were  altered  in  the  fourteenth  century  when  the  portions  farther 
east  were  built,  and,  like  these,  they  show  the  Decorated  style  in  its 
geometrical  phase.  The  new  constructional  scheme  has  not  yet  been 
developed,  but  its  approach  is  manifest.  Although  the  triforium  has 
large  canopied  arches  forming  groups  in  each  bay,  it  has  no  outer  win- 
dows; and  the  clearstory  has  only  a  single  wall,  and  in  each  bay  a 
single  great  traceried  window  which  fills  the  space  from  side  to  side. 
All  is  much  lighter,  freer,  and  more  florid  than  the  Early  English  work 
in  the  nave.  At  the  east  end  is  a  great  window  of  geometrical  tracery; 
below  it  run  delicate  rows  of  niches  covering  the  blank  wall  of  the  tri- 
forium-story;  beneath  these  stand  three  of  the  most  graceful  arches 
that  ever  were  built;  and  through  these  arches,  over  the  high  altar  and 
the  reredos  behind  it,  we  get  an  enchanting  glimpse  into  the  retrochoir 
and  the  Lady-chapel  still  beyond. 

There  can  be  nothing  more  charming  in  the  world  than  this  part  of 
Wells  Cathedral  as  we  enter  it  from  the  choir-aisle;  or,  standing  as  far 
east  as  we  can,  look  back  into  the  choir  through  the  three  arches  in  its 
end.  This  is  the  word,  however — it  is  charming  work  ;  it  is  not  great, 
or  imposing,  or  wonderful  in  any  way  except  in  its  delicate  beauty.  It 
16 


242  Eiig/is/i  Catlicdmls. 

does  not  prove  a  power  to  deal  with  the  highest,  most  difficult  problems 
of  Gothic  design;  it  does  not  awe  us  in  the  least ;  we  do  not  marvel  how 
mere  men  could  build  it,  or,  having  built  it,  could  turn  their  hands  to 
the  ordinary  tasks  of  life.  It  is  not  solemn  or  impressive  as  ecclesias- 
tical work  of  the  noblest  type  must  be;  indeed,  it  might  not  seem  out 
of  keeping  if  it  were  turned  to  some  dignified  secular  use.  But  to  say 
all  this  is  not  to  find  fault;  it  is  only  to  mark  the  kind  of  work  in  which 
Englishmen  did  their  best.  In  such  minor  buildings  as  these  termi- 
nal chapels,  as  chapter-houses,  parish  churches,  and  porches  like  those 
at  Ely  and  Lincoln,  they  were  most  thoroughly  themselves  and  most 
entirely  successful.  When  we  want  the  grand  and  sublime  in  Gothic 
art,  when  we  want  architecture  that  a'stonishes  the  mind,  thrills  the 
soul,  and  arouses  religious  emotion  yet  makes  us  think  the  creature 
man  almost  the  peer  of  his  Creator — then  we  must  go  to  die  tremen- 
dous interiors  of  France.  When  we  want  the  purely  lovely  and 
gracious,  the  simply  human  and  comprehensible  in  its  most  delicate 
form — then  wc  may  well  content  ourselves  in  England. 

On  the  ground-plan  the  Lady-chapel  seems  to  form  five  sides  of  an 
octagon.  But  in  reality  it  is  a  perfect  octagon,  with  five  sides  project- 
ing from  the  retrochoir  and  three  included  within  it.  The  five  are 
formed  by  great  windows,  each  stretching  from  pier  to  pier,  based  on 
a  low  plinth  of  solid  wall;  and  the  three  by  open  arches  resting  on 
isolated  pillars,  as  may  be  seen  in  the  picture  on  p.  243.  Thus  an 
octagonal  vault  is  supported  by  which  the  scheme  is  clearly  defined  to 
even  a  careless  eye;  and  outside,  too,  it  is  defined  by  the  steep  octagonal 
roof  of  the  chapel,  rising  higher  than  the  roof  of  the  retrochoir.  In  the 
retrochoir,  near  the  isolated  pillars  of  the  chapel,  between  them  and  the 
arches  of  the  choir-end,  two  other  pillars  are  placed,  and  at  both  sides 
others  again  (not  marked  on  our  plan).  From  each  of  these  springs 
a  great  group  of  vaulting-ribs,  as  from  the  support  in  the  centre  of  a 
chapter-house.  Of  course  the  effect  that  is  so  beautiful  when  only  one 
cluster  of  shafts  breaks  into  palm-like  clusters  of  ribs  is  infinitely  en- 
hanced by  repetition.  With  every  change  of  place  in  this  retrochoir 
and  Lady-chapel  we  see  a  new  grouping  of  the  slender  pillars,  a  new 
combination  of  the  elaborate  lines  of  the  ceiling;  and  with  every  change 
we  fancy  that  we  have  found  the  most  delightful  point  of  view\ 

The  projecting  arms  of  the  retrochoir  and  the  corners  between  them 
and  the  Lady -chapel  were  formerly  chapels  too,  with  minor  altars,  where 
particular  saints  were  worshiped;  and  their  ancient  names  are  still  ap- 
plied to  them. 


TJic  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  Wells. 


H3 


In  the  choir-aisles  the  three  westerly  bays  show  Joceline's  Early 
English  work,  and  the  others  the  subsequent  Decorated.  The  contrast 
between  the  styles  can  be  better  appreciated  here  than  in  the  choir 


THE  RETROCHOIR   AND   LADY-CHAPEL. 


proper,  where  so  much  altering  has  been  done — the  greater  vigor  and 
simplicity  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  greater  richness  and  delicacy 
of  the  fourteenth,  with  the  smaller  scale  of  its  details,  and  the  more 
A-aried  and  naturalistic  treatment  of  its  carved  foliage. 


244  English  Cathedrals. 


The  stone  throughout  the  interior  of  Wells,  relieved  not  many  years 
ago  of  its  thick  layers  of  whitewash,  has  a  soft  creamy-yellow  tone,  and 
in  the  far  eastern  parts,  as  well  as  on  the  western  wall  of  the  nave,  the 
smaller  shafts  are  of  polished  black  marble.  The  window-traceries  of 
the  eastern  limb  are  rich  and  effective,  and  the  great  east  window  and 
the  two  which  adjoin  it  in  the  clearstory  contain  such  beautiful  ancient 
glass  that  the  eye  bitterly  complains  of  the  crude  modern  colors  with 
which  the  other  clearstory  lights  are  filled.  It  has  not  the  blue  radi- 
ance, enhanced  ijy  vivid  notes  of  red,  which  distinguishes  the  finest 
glass  in  France  and  shows  the  noblest  beauty  the  material  can  com- 
pass. But  it  is  soft,  suave,  yet  brilliant  too,  with  its  browns  and  greens 
and  yellows  enlivened  by  not  a  little  white.  The  same  characteristics 
that  are  expressed  in  the  architectural  forms  speak  once  more  in  this 
scheme  of  color.  There  is  less  audacity,  less  virility,  less  strength  of 
imagination  than  we  find  across  the  Channel,  but  great  harmony, 
sweetness,  refinement,  and  charm.  In  the  Lady-chapel  the  glass  is 
also  original  and  of  the  same  date  (about  1340),  but  it  has  been  so 
largely  reset  that  the  old  designs  can  no  longer  be  traced  in  the  mass 
of  gorgeous  fragments. 

The  choir  has  been  elaborately  refurnished  in  modern  days.  From 
its  early  days  nothing  remains  except  some  little  viiscrcrcs  on  the  lower 
range  of  stalls,'  and  the  lofty  episcopal  throne  which  dates  from  the 
fifteenth  century,  but  has  been  radically  restored. 

Ancient  monuments  are  conspicuous  in  all  parts  of  this  cathedral. 
The  space  between  two  of  the  piers  on  the  north  side  of  the  nave  is 
filled  by  the  chantry  of  Bishop  Budwith,  who  died  in  1424.  It  is  built 
like  a  sort  of  octagonal  pavilion  with  doors  into  nave  and  aisle,  and 
walls  which  resemble  traceried  but  unglazed  windows.  As  Perpendicu- 
lar art  was  still  in  its  soberer  mood,  it  is  not  crowned  with  towerinof 
pinnacles  such  as  we  shall  find  on  the  much  more  splendid  series  of 
tombs  at  Winchester,  but  for  airy  grace  its  design  could  hardly  be 
surpassed.  Opposite,  on  the  south  side  of  the  nave,  is  the  similar  chan- 
try of  Dean  Sugar,  who  died  in  1489 — a  heavier  piece  of  work,  but 
bold  and  fine,  with  a  fan -vault  covering  the  interior,  now  vacant  of  its 

1  The  seat  of  a  stall  was  made  to  turn  up  against  and  this  was  called  a  miserere.     It  is  here  that  the 

the  back,  as  the  occupant  was  required  to  stand  dur-  medieval   sculptor   often   expressed   his   quaintest, 

ing  a  portion   of  the  service.     But  to  relieve   his  most  grotesque,  and,  to    our  minds,  most  profane 

weary  bones  there  was  a  little  projection  from  the  imaginings, 
under  part  of  the  seat  against  which  he  could  rest, 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  Wells.  245 

tomb  and  effigy.  One  of  the  angels  carved  on  the  cornice  holds  the 
dean's  device  —  three  sugar-loaves  surmounted  by  a  doctor's  cap.*  The 
plain  stone  pulpit  u^hich  stands  near  by  dates  from  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury. Until  our  own  century's  restorations,  there  was  a  slab  in  the 
floor  of  the  nave  popularly  called  "King  Ina's  tomb."  Of  course  the 
attribution  was  absurd ;  yet  it  seems  almost  sacrilegious  to  have  removed 
a  stone  which  for  so  many  centuries  had  borne  so  interesting  a  title. 

It  is  probable  that  when  the  eastern  limb  of  the  cathedral  was  finished 
its  early  bishops  were  commemorated  in  a  series  of  pseudo-historical 
monuments,  for  a  surprising  number  of  episcopal  effigies  in  the  Early 
English  style  are  still  scattered  about  in  the  choir-aisle,  the  transept, 
and  the  basement  of  the  chapter-house.  In  the  south  choir-aisle  a  low 
coffin-like  stone  once  covered  Bishop  Button,  the  second  of  the  name, 
who  after  his  death  in  1274  diligently  devoted  himself  to  the  cure  of 
toothache.  The  stone  has  been  removed  from  the  place  where  his  body 
still  reposes  under  the  modern  stalls;  and  to  make  room  for  the  stalls 
Bishop  Beckington's  splendid  Perpendicular  chantry  was  also  ousted. 
It  might  seem  odd  that  the  monument  which  it  contained  was  not  at 
least  recombined  on  another  spot  with  the  little  chapel  itself,  had  we 
not  already  learned  that  the  natural  course  of  "restorers"  in  the  ear- 
lier part  of  our  century  was  to  do  the  most  unnatural  possible  thing. 
Now,  while  the  broken  chantry  mourns  in  the  transept,  the  monument 
stands  unsheltered  near  that  of  the  posthumous  dentist.  It  bears  two 
figures — above,  an  effigy  of  the  prelate  in  episcopal  robes,  and  below, 
a  wasted  body  in  a  winding-sheet — with  long-winged  angels  kneel- 
ing around  them.  In  the  retrochoir,  as  though  guarding  the  lovely 
Lady-chapel  which  was  built  in  his  day,  lies  Bishop  Drokensford  under 
a  shrine-like  canopy. 

In  the  south  arm  of  the  transept  is  a  Norman  font,  possibly  a  relic  of 
Bishop  Robert's  church,  and  if  so  the  only  one  that  remains.  In  the 
north  arm  is  a  great  clock,  much  repaired  at  many  times,  but  built  in 
1325  by  a  monk  of  Glastonbury,  with  a  multitude  of  instructive  func- 
tions, and  with  stift'  little  manikins  to  strike  the  hours.  Richness  of 
effect  is  greatly  increased  in  the  transept  by  the  Perpendicular  screen- 
work  that  shuts  off  its  aisles  and  divides  them  into  chapels. 

The  great  solid  choir-screen  has  come  down  from  the  fourteenth 
century  through  many  vicissitudes  of  repair.  It  was  never  as  signifi- 
cant in  a  cathedral  with  a  collegiate  chapter  as  in  those  which  were 

1  In  the  picture  on  p.  236  Dean  Sugar's  chantry  and  the  pulpit  may  be  seen;  and  they  show  again  toward 
tlie  right  of  the  illustration  on  p.  239,  while  Dean  Budwith's  chantry  appears  toward  the  left. 
16* 


246  English  Cathedrals. 

served  by  monks,  who  were  more  in  need  of  isolation  for  their  many 
special  services. 

I  chanced  to  be  in  Wells  when  for  the  first  time  the  nave  was  artifi- 
cially lighted.  Nothing  could  be  more  beautiful  than  the  effect  as,  ail 
along  the  base  of  the  triforium,  a  million  tiny  stars  of  gas  shone  out  in 
close-set  rows.  This  is  the  usual  mode  of  lighting  old  churches  in  Eng- 
land, and  is  far  preferable  to  any  arrangement  of  standards  or  chande- 
liers. To  be  sure,  the  gas  blackens  the  stone  somewhat;  but  a  little 
"toning"  is  not  unwelcome  where,  to  get  rid  of  the  whitewash  of  cen- 
turies, an  interior  has  been  scraped  to  painful  neatness.  The  occasion 
was  a  harvest  festival,  and  the  sight  was  impressive  as  the  town  dig- 
nitaries entered  in  a  body,  in  red  robes  and  golden  chains,  and  the 
bishop  made  the  tour  of  the  nave  with  his  crozicr  borne  in  front  of  him, 
and  his  choristers  and  clergy.  But  the  sermon  sounded  odd  in  trans- 
atlantic ears.  This  well-to-do  flock,  in  their  pretty  little  town,  may 
have  acquiesced  when  their  bishop,  coming  from  what  is  perhaps  the 
loveliest  home  in  all  England,  boldly  said  that  God's  gifts,  even  of  a 
material  sort,  are  equally  distributed  among  all  his  creatures — that  to 
enjoy  the  beauties  of  nature,  for  instance,  one  does  not  need  to  own 
them.  But  suppose  his  congregation  had  been  gathered  from  the  East 
End  of  London  ? 

VI 

Wells,  like  Salisbury  and  Lincoln,  has  a  cloister,  although,  like  Salis- 
bury and  Lincoln,  it  did  not  really  need  one.  And  here  this  fact  is  still 
more  clearly  apparent,  for  while  the  cloister  lies  to  the  southward  of  the 
nave,  in  its  true  monastic  position,  the  chapter-house  stands  far  away, 
near  the  north  side  of  the  choir,  in  its  true  collegiate  position.  More- 
over, the  cloister  has  only  three  walks  instead  of  the  customary  four,  and 
it  is  entered  only  by  a  door  in  the  corner  of  the  transept,  whereas  mon- 
astic cloisters  must  have  at  least  two  doors — one  for  the  abbot  or  prior, 
and  one  for  the  monks.  Its  central  green,  shadowed  by  an  ancient  yew, 
once  served  as  a  place  of  burial,  and  its  eastern  walk  led  from  the  church 
to  the  palace;  but  these  were  its  only  real  uses,  for  no  buildings  for 
life  in  common  ever  opened  out  of  it.  Two  of  its  walks  are  now  in  the 
Perpendicular  style;  but  the  eastern  one,  over  which  a  Perpendicular 
library  was  raised,  shows  Early  English  work  of  Joceline's  time. 

The  chapter-house  is  the  only  one  in  England  which  has  two 
stories.  The  council-room  itself  is  raised  on  a  basement  or  undercroft, 
which  cannot  be  called  a  crypt,  as  it  lies  above  ground  and  is  lighted 


The  Catlicdml  of  St.  Andrea'  —  IVells. 


247 


by  tall  narrow  windows,  but  which  looks  cellar-like  indeed — dirty, 
trloomy,  and  uncanny,  and  full  of  broken  bits  of  sculpture  and  much 
ecclesiastical  rubbish.  In  the  centre  of  its  octagonal  space,  fifty  feet  in 
diameter,  stands  a  rather  stumpy  clustered  pier;  the  vaults  which  rise 
from  this  descend  to  rest  upon  a  circle  of  eight  round  pillars ;  and  a 
second  sweep  of  vaults   rests   on   these   pillars   and   the   outer  walls. 


THE  CHAPTER-HOUSE. 


Above,  in  the  chapter-house  itself  we  find  the  same  octagonal  shape  and 
a  taller,  lighter  central  pier;  but,  naturally,  now  that  there  is  nothing 
but  the  roof  to  support,  no  secondary  piers  encumber  the  floor.  The 
style  is  early  Decorated,  and  the  geometrical  traceries,  interesting  to 
contrast  with  the  flowing  ones  in  the  choir  of  the  church,  are  very  fine, 
although  the  windows  are  rather  too  low  for  their  width,  owing  to  the 
unusually  low  proportions  of  the  room  itself  The  canopied  arcade 
which  runs  above  the  canons'  bench  is  an  admirable  piece  of  work,  and 
the  deep  window-jambs  are  delightfully  adorned  with  rows  of  that  ball- 
flower  ornament  which  is  as  characteristic  of  the  Decorated  period  as 
the  dog-tooth  is  of  the  Early  English — an  ornament  which  looks  like 
a   round  four-sepaled  bud  just  bursting  to  disclose  the  folded  petals 


248  Eiig/is/i  Cathedrals. 

within.  If  the  room  were  a  little  loftier,  and  its  graceful  doorway  were 
a  little  more  happily  combined  with  the  half- window  above  it,  even 
Lincoln's  chapter-house  would  not  be  more  beautiful. 

The  bridge  that  we  see  in  the  picture  on  p.  249  carries  a  staircase 
which  connects  the  church  not  only  with  the  Vicars'  Close  at  its  end, 
but,  half-wa)  \\\i,  with  the  chapter-house  as  well.  A  more  effective 
mode  of  approach  to  the  chapter-house  could  hartll)  l>c  fancied,  and  a 
large  staircase  of  this  period  is  a  rare  and  interesting  relic.  But,  in 
spite  of  its  dignity,  this  one  does  not  stand  comparison  with  man)-  that 
were  built  in  late  Gothic  and  Renaissance  times,  when,  indeed,  the 
attention  ])aiil  to  domestic  antl  palatial  architecture  hrst  developed  all 
the  beaut\-  and  constructional  significance  of  which  great  stairways 
were  capable.  Here  at  Wells  no  regard  was  paid  to  structural  expres- 
sion; the  e.xistence  of  the  stair  is  not  indicated  by  the  design  of  the 
walls  which  inclose  it.  The  fine  windows  bear  no  relationship  to  the 
slope  they  light,  and,  consequently,  from  liie  outsitle  we  should  never 
imagine  anything  except  a  level  passage  to  exist  within.  Of  course 
the  interior  effect  lacks  harmony ;  and  the  steps  themselves  are  but 
rudely  profiled,  while  their  divergence  into  the  chapter-house  is  man- 
aged in  a  wa\-  which  sfems  curiously  naive  by  contrast  with  the  refine- 
ment, the  cxtjuisilc  finish,  t)f  all  adjacent  features. 


VII 

If  the  great  fame  of  the  west  front  of  Wells  rested  on  architectural 
grounds,  we  might  rightly  say  that  the  popular  voice  is  not  always  the 
voice  of  good  judgment.  To  be  sure,  size  is  a  factor  that  should  never 
be  underestimated  in  architectural  work,  and  this  facade  is  very  large 
even  when  not  tried  by  English  standards.  But  it  is  a  sham  in  the 
same  sense  as  are  tliose  of  Salisbur\-  and  Lincoln.  The  great  towers 
do  not  stand  parallel  with  the  aisles,  but  cjuite  beyond  them:  the  church 
is  not  nearly  so  wide  as  an  end  view  implies.'  The  falsehood  is  in- 
stinctively resented,  and  it  actually  injures  beauty  of  effect.  Neither 
majesty  nor  grace  of  proportion  can  be  claimed  for  this  fagade ;  only 
its  bigness  makes  it  impressive.     Nor  are  defects  in  proportion  pal- 

1  The  cathedrals  of  Amiens  and  Paris,  contempo-  The  west   front   of  Lincoln  was  built  by  liishop 

rary  with  Wells,  measure  136  and   116  feet  across  Hugh,  a   brother   of  Bishop   Joceline.     They  are 

the  front,  while  Wells  measures  147^.     There  are  called  "  Hugh  of  Wells  "  and  "Joceline  of  Wells," 

French  fa9ades  a  good  de.il  wider  still;  yet  if  this  as  born  in  the  -Somerset  city  where  one  of  them  was 

one  were  what  it  pretends  to  be,  it  would   rank  afterward  enthroned, 
among  the  giants. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  Wells. 


249 


Hated  by  art  in  the  design.  There  is  indeed  great  vigor,  resulting  from 
the  simple  repetition  of  large  parts;  but  it  is  the  kind  of  vigor  which 
palls  with  familiarity.  After  a  while  we  feel  that  it  needed  no  imagi- 
native power,  and  little  ingenuity  even,  to  combine  these  successive 
buttresses  and  wall-spaces  and  cover  them  with  arcades.  Examine  the 
arcades  themselves,  and  there  is  no  stronger  ground  for  admiration. 
Many  of  the  features  and  details  are  very  charming,  but  there  is  some- 


THE  WEST    FRONT   ul:     ITIL   cAIHKIjKAL. 


times  a  lack  of  skill  in  their  combination,  as  where  the  tall  main  arcade 
cuts  into  the  little  one  above  it.  Put  this  beside  the  front  of  Notre 
Dame  in  Paris,  and  we  see  a  merely  effective  arrangement  contrasted 
with  a  true  architectural  conception  where  all  parts  are  beautiful  and 
each  is  admirably  related  to  all  the  others — where  the  design  truth- 
fully expresses  the  breadth  of  the  building  behind  it,  and  unity  of  ef- 
fect coexists  with  great  variety.  The  three  doors  at  Wells,  opening 
into  nave  and  aisles,  confess  the  true  width  of  the  church  ;  and  for  this 


250  English  CatliCih'als. 

reason  it  is  fortunate  perhaps  that  they  are  so  small  —  so  very  small,  as 
Ruskin  says  of  English  doors  in  general,  that  ue  fancy  them  not 
portals  for  the  men  who  could  build  such  churches,  but  mere  "holes 
for  frogs  and  mice."  y\bo\e  the  roof  the  towers  are  Perpendicular 
works  of  the  fourteenth  century,  but  the  fact  that  they  are  almost 
precisely  the  same  deserves  remark,  as  the  southern  one  is  more  than 
half  a  century  older  than  its  mate. 

When  the  chronicler  of  England's  "Worthies"  comes  to  Somerset- 
shire he  writes:  "The  west  front  of  Wells  is  a  masterpiece  of  art  in- 
deed, made  of  imagery  in  just  proportion,  so  that  we  may  call  them  'vera 
et  spirantia  sigmx.'  England  affordeth  not  the  like.  For  although  the 
west-end  of  Exeter  beginneth  accordingly,  it  doth  not,  like  Wells,  per- 
severe to  the  end  then^of"  The  phrase  "made  of  imagery"  was  per- 
haps a  careless  one  with  I'uller,  but  it  aptly  explains  where  the  interest 
and  beauty  of  the  great  facade  really  reside.  Not  the  architect,  but  the 
sculptor  has  made  it  illustrious.  The  statues  and  groups  with  which  it 
is  covered  are  later  than  the  front  itself;  only  about  the  year  1280 
were  they  placed  in  the  niches  that  had  been  arranged  for  them.  Some 
are  missing,  some  are  shattered,  but  many  are  in  good  condition  ;  they 
have  not  been  restored,  and  they  show  English  sculpture  at  its  very 
highest  level.  When  complete  they  included  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
effigies  as  large  as  life  or  larger,  and  still  more  of  smaller  size — effigies 
of  kings  and  queens  and  princes  and  warriors,  of  angels,  apostles, 
saints,  martyrs,  missionaries,  and  bishops,  most  of  them  actual  or  ima- 
gined portraits,  although  exact  identification  is  impossible  to-day. 
The  lowest  tier  of  arches  seems  to  have  been  filled  with  figures  of  those 
who  had  converted  the  island  —  St.  Augustine  and  his  followers,  of 
course,  but  also  St.  Paul,  St.  Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  others  whom 
local  legends  named  as  bringers  of  the  glad  tidings  in  earliest  British 
days.  Then  comes  a  line  of  singing  angels,  and  then  a  line  of  medal- 
lions with  subjects  from  the  Old  Testament  on  one  side  of  the  central 
door,  and  from  the  New  Testament  on  the  other,  separated  above  the 
door  by  a  niche  with  a  Coronation  of  the  Virgin.  A  fourth  row  and  a 
fifth  contain  the  spiritual  and  temporal  lords  of  the  island  Church, 
toeether  with  their  brethren  and  allies  of  other  lands.  The  sixth  tier — 
the  little  arcade  above  the  largest — shows  ninety-two  small  composi- 
tions of  two  or  three  figures  each.  All  these  represent  the  Resurrec- 
tion, and  are  remarkable  for  the  absence  of  the  grotesque  monsters, 
devils,  and  infernal  emblems  which  commonly  accompany  such  scenes 
when    Continental   sculptors   have  treated  them.     The  simpler,   more 


TJic  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  IVells. 


2^1 


naturalistic  English  conceptions  may  be  thought  in  better  accord  with 
modern  ideas  of  artistic  dignity;  yet  from  the  mediaeval  standpoint  we 
must  once  more  record  a  relative  deficiency  in  imaginative  power.  Nor 
did  such  little  isolated  groups  demand  as  much  of  this  power  for  their 
arrangement,  or  as  much  architectural  skill  for  their  placing,  as  the 
large  compositions  which  adorn  the  churches  of  France.  Studying  the 
principal  figures,  we  find  that  they  too  are  more  naturalistic  in  aim  than 
the  best  French  figures,  which,  be  it  noted,  are  a  full  century  earlier  in 
date.  But  the  aim  is  not  worked  out  to  greater  truth  of  effect,  or  to  so 
high  a  degree  of  beauty.  The  sculptors  who  labored  at  Wells  were 
very  remarkable  artists,  but  they  had  not  the  high  inspiration  or  the 
fine  technical  skill  that  their  French  predecessors  and  contemporaries 
showed;  they  did  not  attempt  the  noblest  problems  which  mediaeval 
architecture  permitted  ;  nor  is  their  work  so  integrally  part  and  parcel 
of  the  building  as  what  we  see  at  Amiens,  Rheims,  or  Chartres.  But 
the  burden  of  responsibility  for  the  latter  fact  at  least  should  of  course 
be  laid  upon  the  architect  rather  than  upon  the  sculptor  himself 

In  the  central  gable  stand  twelve  angels  in  a  row,  with  the  twelve 
apostles  above  them,  while  in  the  three  great  niches  atop  of  all  once 
sat  Christ  enthroned  with  the  Virgin  and  St.  John.  The  twenty-four 
figures  which,  so  to  say,  formed  their  footstool  are  almost  intact;  but 
St.  John  and  the  Virgin  have  perished,  and  only  the  feet  of  Christ  re- 
main. In  the  central  portal  sits  the  Virgin  again,  with  the  Child  in 
her  arms  and  the  serpent  under  her  feet.  The  sculptured  arcades  run 
around  the  flank  of  the  northwestern  tower,  but  on  the  southwest- 
ern one  they  stop  with  the  facade,  probably  because  of  the  cloister's 
position. 

When  we  turn  the  wind-swept  northwest  shoulder  of  the  church  — 
called  "Kill-canon  Corner" — we  see  that  after  all  something  beyond 
bulk  was  gained  by  placing  the  tower  outside  the  line  of  the  walls.  In 
a  lateral  view  it  gives  vigor  and  variety  to  the  long  stretch  of  nave,  and 
groups  admirably  with  a  large  projecting  northern  porch.  This  porch 
is  Early  English  of  the  local  type,  and  antedates,  perhaps,  both  the  nave 
and  the  western  front.  Rich  arcades  cover  its  interior  walls,  and  a 
lingering  Norman  influence  shows  in  the  zigzags  which  adorn  the 
mouldings  of  its  deep  portal,  and  in  the  grotesques  that  mingle  with 
the  foliage  on  the  capitals  of  its  many  shafts. 


252 


English  Cathcdyals. 


VIII 

It  is  the  palace  gfardcn  that  gives  this  cathedral  a  setting  which  even 
in  England  seems  strikingly  fair.  The  close  itself  is  only  the  green  — 
once  a  cemetery — stretching  in  front  of  the  church  and  some  distance 
farther  toward  the  south.  At  its  southwestern  corner  rises  one  of  its 
three  gates,  opening  from  the  market-place.  Another  is  behind  us 
when  we  stand  as  in  the  picture  on  p.  249,  and  the  third  is  then 
in  front  of  us — the  Chain-gate  under  the  stairway-bridge.      Passing 


-?ii  "^^ 


%i?-f:^'- 


■M^^^':^"-- 


-Wi«fc"«-\^ 


THE  CATHEDRAL,    FROM   TOR   HILL. 


through  this,  we  pass  out  of  the  close  and  see  the  chapter-house  and 
the  Lady-chapel  divided  from  the  street  by  only  a  narrow  line  of  gar- 
den. But  to  appreciate  their  beauty  as  they  group  with  the  varied  out- 
lines of  the  church  itself,  we  must  climb  the  gentle  slope  of  Tor  1  lill  and 
look  back  from  the  southeast. 

Far  off  are  the  western  towers,  seeming  less  stunted  than  when,  as 
we  stood  beneath  them,  they  were  dwarfed  by  the  great  breadth  of  the 
front.     Where  choir  and  nave  and  transept  meet  soars  the  central  tower 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  IVells. 


253 


THE  EAST  ENli   cii-     nil,   LUlll 


1  KOM  THE  GARDEN. 


with  its  light  pinnacles.  The  few  buttresses  of  the  newer  part  of  the 
choir,  the  low  projection  of  the  small  eastern  transept,  the  richness  of 
the  east  window,  the  true  octagonal  shape  of  the  Lady-chapel  (separated 
from  the  choir-end  by  the  lower  roof  of  the  retrochoir),  and  the  taller 
pinnacled  octagon  of  the  chapter-house — all  these  are  clearly  seen, 
supported  to  the  left  by  the  library  above  the  cloister-walk  and  by  the 
roofs  of  the  palace,  over  a  foreground  of  luxuriant  garden  and  against 
a  background  of  low  rolling  hills,  with  the  town  looking  very  tiny,  but 
the  tower  of  St.  Cuthbert's  church  accenting  its  existence  afar  off  to  the 
westward.  There  is  little  to  criticize,  much  to  admire  without  stint,  in 
the  exterior  of  Wells  once  the  facade  is  forgotten  ;  and  from  this  point 
everything  seems  perfect  except  the  unpinnacled  tops  of  the  western 
towers.  But  the  best  thing  of  all  is  the  way  in  which  all  things  are 
grouped — the  free  yet  harmonious  connection  of  the  parts,  so  that  the 
individuality  of  each  is  manifest,  yet  each  sustains  and  emphasizes  and 
belongs  to  the  others.  In  Germany  and  England  we  often  find  groups 
of  buildings  which  may  be  composed  of  inferior  elements,  yet  as  groups. 


254  ILiiglisli  Catlicdnih. 

in  a  general  distant  view,  could  hardly  be  matched  in  France.  A  feel- 
ing for  the  picturesque,  and  for  natural  beauty  as  contributing  toward 
it,  did  something  to  supply  among  men  of  Teutonic  blood  a  deficiency 
in  tliat  purely  architectural  power  which  has  always  been  strongest  in 
the  Latin  races.  But  among  all  the  groups  raised  by  mediaeval  builders, 
blending  nature's  charms  and  art's  together,  there  can  be  none  more 
perfect  than  this  at  Wells,  where  the  arrangement  is  masterly  and  the 
<ilements  are  very  beautiful  in  themselves. 

When,  near  the  spot  shown  in  the  picture  on  p.  253,  we  turn 
our  backs  uj)on  the  church,  we  see  something  much  less  noble  but 
almost  more  amazing — a  palace  which  makes  the  dream  of  a  poet  seem 
prosaic,  it  is  so  big  yet  .so  pretty,  so  dignified  yet  so  fantastic,  so  un- 
natural to  our  American  eyes  yet  so  natural-looking  here.  If  ever  there 
has  been  a  romantic  home,  it  is  this.  Not  a  bishop  should  live  in  it, 
but  some  festive  young  seignior  with  hawks  and  hounds,  going  out 
daily  over  the  drawbridge  on  a  milk-white  horse  with  the  longest  pos- 
sible tail:  and  on  the  moat,  instead  of  a  stout  youth  in  knickerbockers 
pushing  himselt  about  in  a  punt  with  a  pole,  we  ought  to  have  seen 
a  boat  shaped  like  a  swan,  with  a  silken  canopy  and  a  troubadour  to 
sing  beneath  the  oriels.  1  do  not  know  whether  or  not  we  might  have 
gone  inside  the  palace,  but  who  could  wish  it?  No  modern  men  and 
women,  clerical  or  lay,  could  "  live  up  "  to  such  an  exterior.  But  not 
seeing  was  believing ;  not  seeing,  we  could  fancy  them  still  clad  in  bro- 
cades, treading  on  rushes,  and  shivering  when  the  tapestries  wave  as 
the  wind  blows  in  winter  through  the  patched  walls  and  sagging  roofs. 

Patched  the  walls  are  in  truth,  though  probably  the  wind  is  well 
enough  kept  out:  and  there  is  no  more  "design"  to  the  building  as  a 
whole  than  continuity  in  its  fabric,  where  each  scar  and  rent  seems 
to  have  been  repaired  with  the  first  material  that  came  to  hand,  and 
where  time  and  weather  have  blended  all  diverse  notes  of  color  into  a 
soft  general  redness,  contrasting,  just  as  a  painter  would  have  it,  with 
the  vivid  green  of  the  vine.s.  A  big  magnolia  blooms  against  one  wall, 
to  give  the  last  imaginable  touch  of  poetic  charm. 

John  of  Tours  first  Imilt  the  palace  with  the  materials  of  Gisa's 
structures,  foceline  began  to  rebuild  it,  adding  a  chapel,  and  giving 
the  house  itself  the  vaulted  lower  story  and  the  great  upper  hall  which 
still  remain,  although  much  altered  in  feature  and  function.  It  would  be 
difificult  and  not  a  little  painful  to  trace  its  later  history  of  addition,  de- 
facement, and  repair.  From  the  architectural  point  of  view  its  exterior 
has  not  much  more  merit  now  than  those  curious  compounds  of  unre- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Andrew  —  PVells. 


'DD 


lated  bits  which  the  scene-painter  loves  to  imagine.  But  how  often 
have  we  wished  that  we  could  see  some  actual  thing  half  as  pictur- 
esque as  the  scene-painter's  unrealities?  Here  we  find  it — something 
real  that  looks  utterly  unreal;  a  house  where  all  the  vandalism  and 
unreason  of  the  past  have  merely  worked  together  for  the  good  of 
the  eye  that   is  wise  enough  to  forget  for  a  moment  the  meaning  of 


-J  II  [if!:  ^ki^Na«^ 


THE  BISHOP'S   PALACE. 


architectural  unity,   and  to  ask  only  for  effective  massing,   for  lovely 
contrasts  of  color,  and  a  mellow  air  of  antiquity  and  romance. 

A  little  way  back  of  the  palace  a  great  episcopal  hall,  the  largest  in 
all  England,  was  built  before  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Now 
the  picturesqueness  of  its  ruin  contrasts  with  the  picturesque  preserva- 
tion of  its  older  neighbor.  Four  octagonal  turrets  and  four  tall  win- 
dows stand  in  a  mantle  of  ivy,  and  beyond  them  the  gardens  stretch 
still  further,  rising  to  a  terrace  where  we  get  another  admirable  view 
of  the  mighty  cathedral  pile,  and  can  see  the  silhouette  of  Glastonbury 
far  off  against  the  southern  sky. 


256  English  Cafhcihals. 

The  front  of  the  deanery,  looking  on  the  northern  side  of  the  ca- 
thedral green  near  the  Vicars'  Close,  was  rebuilt  in  the  seventeenth 
century,  but  inside  its  square  courtyard  the  work  of  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury may  still  be  seen.  Here  Henry  VII,  was  housed,  the  palace  being 
in  too  forlorn  a  state,  when  Perkin  Warbeck's  insurrection  brought  him 
to  the  west. 

But  nothing  at  Wells  is  more  charming,  nothing  is  quite  so  indi- 
vidual, as  the  Vicars'  Close  itself.      The  canons  lived  around  the  cathe- 


THI-;    VICARS'    CLOSE. 


dral  close  in  separate  houses,  hardly  a  trace  of  which  remain.s.  The 
vicars  —  their  deputies  or  assistants — were  scattered  about  through  the 
town  until,  in  plaintive  Latin  verses,  they  petitioned  Raljih  of  Shrews- 
bury to  give  them  an  abiding-place.  Here  he  housed  them,  in  two 
rows  of  tiny  homes,  shut  in  at  the  north  l)y  a  library  and  a  chapel,  and 


The  Cat  J  led  ml  of  St.  Andrew — Wells.  257 

at  the  south  by  a  gateway  with  a  gallery  above  opening  into  a  refec- 
tory and  into  the  staircase  that  connected  with  the  church.  Once  there 
were  forty- two  houses,  each  with  a  single  occupant  who  slept  and  found 
retirement  in  its  two  cozy  rooms,  but  dined  in  common  with  his  fellows, 
studied  and  worshiped  with  them  in  their  private  library  and  chapel, 
and  went  with  them  over  their  private  bridge  when  his  duties  called 
him  to  the  cathedral  church.  Here  indeed  the  ideal  of  celibate  scho- 
lastic religious  life  must  have  been  attained  by  those  who  sought  it 
with  a  pure  heart  and  a  quiet  mind.  Nor  does  the  atmosphere  of  the 
place  seem  much  changed,  despite  all  the  other  changes  it  has  seen. 
Little  of  Shrewsbury's  Decorated  work  remains,  but  that  would  matter 
less  had  the  reconstructions  of  the  Perpendicular  period  been  the  last. 
Only  one  of  the  houses  is  intact  inside.  When  priests  were  permitted 
to  marry,  even  a  priest  could  not  live  in  two  rooms ;  and  gradually 
several  homes  have  been  thrown  into  one,  and  laymen  have  been 
allowed  to  occupy  them.  Yet  in  the  soft  glamour  of  a  September 
twilight  it  was  easy  to  repeople  the  inclosure  with  its  ancient  fig- 
ures, and  it  was  almost  easy  to  imagine  that  theirs  must  have  been 
an  enviable  life. 

In  choosing  twelve  English  cathedrals  for  description,  I  must  have 
preferred  certain  others  to  Wells  did  the  church  stand  by  itself  But 
its  group  of  minor  buildings  gives  it  a  claim  which  could  not  possi- 
bly be  overlooked.  To  disassociate  an  English  cathedral  from  its  sur- 
roundings is  as  though,  in  portraying  a  great  tree,  one  should  lop  off 
the  lateral  branches;  and  here  the  tree  is  not  only  beautiful  but  unique. 
Here,  much  better  than  anywhere  else,  we  can  learn  what  was  the 
aspect,  in  mediaeval  times,  of  a  cathedral  church  served  by  a  body  of 
priests  who  were  not  monks, — by  a  large  collegiate  chapter.  When 
we  study  out  its  meaning,  even  the  loveliness  of  the  general  picture 
at  Wells  is  not  so  remarkable  as  its  historic  interest. 


IX 

It  is  popularly  said  in  Wells  that  three  railways  make  it  difficult  to 
get  there,  and  that  four  would  make  it  quite  impossible.  The  trains  by 
which  we  came  from  the  south  certainly  showed  that  we  were  not  on  a 
great  highway  of  travel.  They  loitered  and  paused,  and  gave  up  their 
burdens  to  one  another,  and  then  hurried  a  little,  and  loitered  again, 
and  brouufht  us  in  at  last  some  three  hours  late.  But  thev  loitered 
through  one  of  the  most  beautiful  districts  of  England,  and  they 
17 


258  Iiiig/is/i  Catlicdyah. 

brought  us  in  at  sunset  to  a  tirsi  impression  of  incomparaMi-  riianii ; 
and  we  felt  that  the)-  must  know  this  to  be  their  chief  it  not  their 
only   duty. 

In  truth,  Wells  is  such  a  little  cjuiet  cit)-  that  it  seems  as  though  no 
stranger  could  come  except  for  the  cathedral's  sake.  It  is  the  extreme 
example  of  a  town  which  absolutely  owes  its  life  to  the  cathedral's  ex- 
istence. We  are  surprised  to  find  that  it  ever  wished  for  a  parish 
church  like  St.  Cuthbcrt's — surprised  that  it  dared  to  realize  its  wish 
and  give  the  cathedral  towers  a  rival.  Were  there  space  for  much  else 
now  that  art  has  had  its  share  of  all-too-scanty  comment,  it  would  be 
interesting  to  trace  the  inner  histor\-  of  the  town,  for  no  history  of 
an  English  town  comes  nearer  to  reproducing,  on  a  humble  scale,  the 
story  of  those  foreign  cities  where  the  bishop  ruled  bodies  as  well  as 
souls.  But  there  would  be  little  to  tell  of  the  figure  that  Wells  has 
matle  in  outside  happenings.  It  can  never  have  been  much  more  im- 
portant than  it  is  to-day;  and  when  its  bishops  achieved  national  fame 
they  played  their  parts  at  a  distance. 

I  have  spoken  of  those  who  fathered  its  beautiful  buildings,  down 
to  Bishop  Beckington.  There  was  little  left  for  him  to  add  to  the 
church  itself  but  his  accessory  works  were  manifoUl;  ami  in  the  town 
he  did  so  much  that  for  generations  after  his  death  the  mayor  and  cor- 
poration went  annually  in  state  to  pray  for  his  soul  by  the  chantry 
which  our  ungrateful  time  has  uprooted  and  defaced.  Before  his  day 
there  were  prelates  who  had  not  been  remarkable  as  builders  only,  but 
a  more  curious  line  succeeds  him.  He  was  followed  by  Oliver  King 
(1495-1503),  who  was  potent  at  court  under  Edward  I\'.  and  Henry 
VII.  Next  came  an  Italian,  Hadrian  de  Castello.  if  I  may  use  the  word 
of  one  who  never  really  came  at  all.  He  had  been  legate  in  Scotlanil, 
and,  after  his  return  to  Rome,  Archbishop  Morton  caused  him  to  be 
named  Bishop  of  Hereford.  P'rom  this  sc-e  he  was  transferred,  while 
still  in  Rome,  to  Wells;  and  in  Rome  he  was  one  day  asked  to  break- 
fast with  the  Borgia  who  was  pope.  The  rest  of  the  story  is  familiar, 
though  one  rarely  remembers  that  its  hero  the  cardinal  was  likewise 
Bishop  of  Bath  and  Wells  —  the  story  of  the  poisoned  cup  meant  for 
Castello  but  drunk  by  the  pope  and  his  son  Csesar.  Even  after  this 
Castello  had  no  thoughts  of  England.  He  headed  a  conspiracy  against 
Leo  X.,  failed,  fled,  and  was  never  heard  of  again.  What  a  contrast 
between  such  a  wolf  in  shepherd's  clothing  and  a  Beckington  or  a 
Joceline!  And  the  next  name  has  still  a  different  flavor,  being  the 
great  Wolsey's.     Wolsey  resigned  his  chair  at  Wells  to  take  Durham's 


The  CatJiedml  of  St.  Audreiv  —  IVcHs. 


259 


chair  instead ;  and,  a  century  later,  Laud,  who  was  bishop  first  of  St. 
David's  in  Wales,  and  then  of  Bath  and  Wells,  passed  from  Wells  to 
London  and  to  Canterbury.  For  another  really  noted  prelate  we  must 
look  ahead  nearly  sixty  years  to  Ken,  of  whose  appointment  in  1685 
one  of  the  few  anecdotes  is  told  that  reflect  much  credit  on  Charles  II. 
As  a  canon  at  Winchester,  Ken  had  refused  the  king's  request  to  take 
Nell  Gwynn  beneath  his  roof  When  the  see  of  Bath  and  Wells  was 
vacant  in  after  years,  Charles  was  asked  who  should  fill  it,  and  he  an- 
swered,—  so  the  story  runs,  —  "Who  but  the  brave  little  man  that 
would  not  give  poor  Nelly  a  lodging?"  At  all  events.  Ken's  inde- 
pendence, no  less  than  his  simplicity,  piety,  and  learning,  was  proved 
(luring  every  day  of  his  episcopal  life.  In  his  time  Wells  for  once 
came  conspicuously  before  the  public  eye.  The  battle  of  Sedgemoor 
was  fought  only  a  short  distance  away,  and  Ken  sheltered  the  refugees, 
and,  with  the  Bishop  of  Ely,  ministered  to  Monmouth  on  the  scaffold. 
He  was  one  of  the  seven  bishops  then  tried  and  acquitted  at  West- 
minster, and  one  of  the  nonjurors  after  William  and  Mary  came  to  the 
throne.  Deprived  of  his  see,  he  died  in  171 1.  Many  bishops,  like 
Laud,  were  translated  to  Wells  from  the  humbler  neighboring  sees  of 
Wales,  and  not  a  few  of  them  passed  on  to  more  e.xalted  English  chairs. 


-i-.,-. 


>^ 


#^ 


THE   ENTRANCE  TO  THE  BISHOP'S   PALACE. 


WINCHESTER,   FROM  THE  EASTERN'   HILLS. 


Chapter   X 


THE   CATHEDRAL  OF    ST.  PETER  AND  ST.  PAUL WINCHESTER 


INCHESTER  Cathedral  is  the  longest  mediaeval 
church  in  Europe,  now  that  Old  St.  Paul's  of 
London  has  perished ;  yet  no  other  makes  so 
poor  a  showing  in  the  English  landscape.  As 
depressed  and  monotonous  in  outline  as  Peter- 
borough, it  has  no  conspicuous  facade  to  give 
it  grandeur  from  a  western  point  of  view ;  nor 
does  so  wide  a  reach  of  open  square  and  ver- 
dant close  surround  it.  Seen  from  the  neighboring  hills  its  enormous 
bulk  is  of  course  impressive,  but  on  lower  ground  the  eye  cannot  often 
isolate  it  from  the  encircling  houses.  This  is  especially  true  of  the 
place  from  which  strangers  see  it  first.  It  stands  near  the  railroad, 
yet  we  may  easily  fail  to  realize  that  we  are  approaching  one  of  the 
mightiest,  most  famous,  and  most  interesting  of  England's  cathedrals. 
We  must  make  the  circuit  of  its  walls  to  appreciate  their  extent,  and 
must  enter  its  portals  to  comprehend  its  majesty  and  charm.  Many 
periods  of  art  contributed  to  its  erection,  but  to-day  it  chiefly  shows  the 
work  of  the  early  Perpendicular  period.^ 


There  was  a  town  on  this  spot  long  before  the  Romans  conquered 
it.  They  called  it  Venta  Belgarum,  but  its  still  earlier  name  is  more 
often  recollected  —  Caer  Gwent,  familiar  to  lovers  of  Arthurian  legend; 
and  tradition  speaks  more  clearly  about  its  first  Christian  days  than 
about  those  of  Canterbury.      Here,  it  is  said,  in  the  year  164,  immedi- 

1  The  standard  account  of  this  church  is  Profes-  Ireland,  in  the  volume  which  liears  date  1845  and 

sor  W^illis's  "Architectural  History  of  Winchester  which  is  entirely  devoted  to  Winchester,  containing 

Cathedral."      It  was  published  in  the  Proceedings  also  an  interesting  essay  on  \\'illiam  of  Wykeham, 

of  the  Archaological  Institute  of  Great  Britain  and  by  Professor  Cockerell. 

1  7*  -JCI 


262  English  Cathcdyals. 

ately  after  his  conversion,  King  Lucius  the  liriton  erected,  on  the  site 
of  an  ancient  temple,  a  church  of  unparalleled  size  and  beauty.  A 
hundred  years  later  it  was  destroyed  in  the  persecutions  of  Diocletian's 
time,  but  was  soon  rebuilt  and  remained  in  Christian  use  until  the 
West-Saxons  arrived  and  their  first  king,  Cerdic,  made  it  a  "temple  of 
Dagon."  Caer  Gwent  lay  in  ruins  when  Cerdic  was  crowned,  hut, 
restored  with  an  Anglicized  nann-,  WMnt-Ceaster,  it  grew  beneath  the 
rule  of  his  offspring  to  be  the  capital  of  united  England  ;  and,  though 
London  gradually  usurped  its  place,  the  imagination  looks  back  to  it 
as  back  to  Canterbury.  Winchester  politically,  like  Canterburj-  spirit- 
ually, is  the  mother-city  of  the  English-speaking  race. 

In  the  year  633  Pope  Honorius  sent  Birinus  to  convert  the  West- 
Saxons.  Helped  in  the  work  by  Oswald,  king  of  Northuml)ria,  friend 
of  St.  Cuthbert  and  hero  of  Durham,  who  had  come  southward  to  seek 
the  hand  of  a  West-Saxon  princess,  he  baptized  King  Kynegils  and 
his  people  and  became  the  first  liishop  of  a  new  see.  A  great  church 
was  l)egun  to  replace  the  old  one,  desecrated  by  Dagon ;  and  though 
the  new  cathedra  was  temporarily  set  up  at  Dorchester  (now  Abing- 
don) in  Oxfordshire,  it  was  removed  to  the  royal  town  in  the  reign  of 
King  Ina,  about  the  year  700. 

Winchesters  importance  grew  steadil\-  with  the  growth  of  West- 
Saxon  power.  Here  reigned  Egbert,  the  first  king  of  all  England,  and 
his  successors  until  just  before  the  Norman  conquest.  Alfred  the  (ireat 
restored  the  town  after  its  desolation  by  the  Danes ;  and,  that  harried 
Wessex  might  no  longer  deserve  the  reproach  of  being  the  most 
ignorant  province  in  England,  he  founded,  close  by  the  cathedral  or 
Old  Minster,  a  New  Minster  as  a  home  for  scholars.  When  Ethel- 
wold,  the  refounder  of  Peterborough  and  Ely,  was  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, a  century  after  Alfred's  time,  he  repaired,  or  probably  rebuilt, 
the  Old  Minster  and.  in  tlie  year  980,  removed  beneath  its  roof  the 
body  of  St.  Swithun,  who  had  l^ieen  Alfred's  tutor  and,  afterward,  bishop 
of  the  see.  The  translation  was  delayed  by  forty  days  of  rain  and,  in 
consequence,  sun  or  shower  on  St.  Swithun's  festival,  July  15,  still  pre- 
dicts the  next  forty  days  of  weather  for  the  English  peasant.  The 
orieinal  church  had  been  dedicated  to  the  Holv  Trinity.  The  new 
one  was  dedicated  to  Sts.  Peter  and  Paul ;  but  -St.  Swithun  was  re- 
vered as  its  real  patron,  and  mediaeval  writers  call  it  the  Old  Minster 
or  St.  Swithun's  Abbey.  The  chapter  had  been  secular ;  but  Ethel- 
wold  offered  the  canons,  many  of  whom  were  married  men,  their  choice 
between  deprivation  and  a  monkish  cowl  ;   and  when  all  Init  three  re- 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul —  IVinchester.     263 

fused  the  cowl,  he  filled  their  stalls  with  Benedictine  monks  from 
Abingdon. 

During  the  days  of  Danish  dominion,  national  existence  still  cen- 
tred at  Winchester.  In  its  cathedral  Canute  was  crowned,  and  here 
he  placed  his  golden  crown  on  the  head  of  the  crucified  Christ,  refus- 
ing to  wear  it  again  after  his  courtiers'  blasphemous  adulation  on  the 
borders  of  Southampton  Water.  Here,  too,  the  story  runs,  his  widow 
Emma — widow  also  of  Ethelred  the  Unready  and  mother  of  the  Con- 
fessor—  was  forced  by  her  pious  weakly  son  to  walk  upon  hot  plow- 
shares in  refutation  of  a  charge  of  too  close  friendship  with  Bishop 
Aldwin.  The  great  Godwin  died  suddenly  at  a  royal  feast  at  Winches- 
ter, and  was  buried  in  the  cathedral  while  all  the  people  of  England 
mourned  aloud.  William  the  Conqueror  respected  the  town  as  the 
dower-city  of  the  Confessor's  widow,  Edith,  and  it  quietly  submitted  to 
his  rule.  Stigand  was  Bishop  of  Winchester  as  well  as  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  at  this  time,  and  he  too  died  here  and  was  buried  in  the 
cathedral.  And  on  a  neighboring  hilltop  Waltheof,  the  "last  English 
Earl,"  was  beheaded  by  the  Conqueror  and  "meanly  buried  on  the 
place  of  his  martyrdom." 

The  first  Norman  bishop  was  W^alkelin,  a  relative  of  the  Conqueror's. 
He  rebuilt  the  cathedral  from  the  foundations  up,  on  a  site  that  was  far 
more  cramped  than  we  realize  to-day,  for  the  New  Minster  stood  so 
close  to  its  northern  side  that  the  chanting  in  one  church  could  be 
heard  in  the  other,  and  William's  great  castle  crowded  close  upon  its 
western  front. 

IT 

Although  the  Confessor  had  been  crowned  at  the  old  capital,  his 
love  for  Westminster,  and  the  development  of  commercial,  life  started 
London  in  its  successful  rivalry  with  Winchester.  But  it  was  a  long 
time  before  Winchester  lost  its  rank.  It  was  William's  English 
capital,  and  he  was  crowned  here  for  the  second  time  with  Matilda. 
Domesday  Book  was  called  the  "  Book  of  Winton,"  probably  because 
it  was  here  presented  to  the  king;  and  here,  w^here  the  curfew-bell  still 
tolls  night  after  night,  it  first  rang  out  by  his  hated  order.  W'illiam 
Rufus  too  was  crowned  at  Winchester,  and,  shot  near  by  in  the  New 
Forest  which  his  father  had  watered  with  the  tears  of  its  dispos- 
sessed peasants,  was  buried  without  religious  rites  in  the  centre  of  St. 
Swithun's  church.  Seven  years  later  Walkelin's  massive  tower  fell 
down,  as  though  "ashamed  to  shelter  the  Red  King's  corpse."    On  the 


264  English  Catlicdmls. 

day  of  the  burial  the  witaii  at  Winchester  elected  Henry  I.  to  the 
throne;  and  in  a  neighboring  cloister  he  found  his  wife,  Edith, — after- 
ward, as  Norman  tongues  could  not  pronounce  her  name,  called  Matilda 
or  Maud, — the  daughter  of  Margaret  of  Scotland  and  niece  of  Edgar 
the  Alheling,  last  scion  of  Cerdic's  stock.  In  Henry's  reign  the  New 
Minster  was  removed  to  another  site  and  became  Hyde  Abbey,  while 
the  ground  it  left  vacant  was  used  for  the  city  cemetery  antl  now  forms 
part  of  the  cathedral  close. 

Henry  of  Blois,  a  grandson  of  the  Conqueror  and  Bishop  of  Winches- 
ter from  1 1 29  to  I  171,  was  not  only  the  most  powerful  prelate  but  the 
most  powerful  man  in  England.  A  prime  favorite  with  his  uncle. 
King  Henry  I.,  to  whom  he  owed  his  bishopric,  neither  gratitude  nor 
pledges  guided  his  course  in  the  war  which  followed  Henry's  death. 
Siding  now  with  his  cousin  Matilda  and  now  with  his  brother  Stephen, 
he  worse  confounded  the  confusion  of  his  time,  but  at  last  was  the  chief 
promoter  of  the  settlement  which  put  Stephen  on  the  throne.  His 
political  acts  may  be  variously  judged,  but  his  private  life  was  pure,  and 
he  labored  steadily  for  the  good  of  his  diocese.  Becket  was  consecrated 
by  his  hands.  He  was  legate  of  the  pope,  a  great  warrior  in  deed  as 
well  as  counsel,  and  the  builder  of  the  beautiful  and  famous  Hospital  of 
St.  Cross  which  still  stands  in  its  old  usefulness  a  mile  away  from  the 
cathedral.  But  in  his  latter  days,  in  the  reign  of  Stephen,  Winchester's 
rank  as  the  capital  of  the  realm  finally  passed  away.  It  is  true  that 
Henry  II.  spent  much  time  at  Winchester,  married  his  daughter  there 
to  the  Duke  of  Saxony,  and  there  kept  the  enormous  treasure  which, 
when  he  died,  Richard  I.  eagerly  came  to  seize.  It  is  true,  as  well,  that 
Richard's  second  coronation,  after  his  captivity,  took  place  at  Winches- 
ter. But  he  was  first  crowned  at  Westminster,  as  had  been  the  case 
with  Stephen  and  with  Henry  II.,  when  Winchester  lay  almost  in  ruins 
after  the  long  war,  and  indeed,  years  before,  with  Henry  I.  ;  and  no 
subsequent  English  king  has  thought  of  Wessex  as  the  political  heart 
of  his  realm. 

In  1 189  Godfrey  de  Lucy  was  made  bishop,  and  he  rebuilt  the  east 
end  of  the  cathedral  w^hile  King  John  was  beginning  his  reign.  Bishop 
Peter  de  Roches,  a  Poitevin  by  birth,  and  one  of  the  first  of  those 
haughty  foreign  prelates  who  troubled  the  realm  so  sorely,  stood  fast 
by  John  while  he  struggled  with  his  people,  and  after  his  death  re- 
mained Grand  Justiciar  of  England,  and  was  guardian  of  the  new  king, 
little  Henry  III.  The  reign  of  this  Henry  of  Winchester  was  a  trou- 
blous one  for  his  natal  town,  what  with  the  Barons'  War  eddying  close 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul —  IVmchester.     265 

about  it,  the  king's  wranglings  with  the  cathedral  chapter  over  the  elec- 
tion of  its  bishops,  and  frequent  monkish  quarrels  with  the  townsfolk. 
But  a  happy  day  came  at  last  to  Winchester,  when,  at  the  parliament 
held  there  in  1268,  Henry  made  his  peace  with  his  son  and  with  the 
memory  of  Simon  de  Montfort.  Ethelmar  (or  Aylmar)  de  Valence, 
Henry's  half-brother,  had  finally  been  chosen  bishop  through  his  insis- 
tence. After  this  name  come  a  few  of  small  significance,  and  then  Bishop 
Edingdon's  in  1346.      The  Black  Death  all  but  depopulated  England 


THE  CATHEDRAL,    KkOM    THE   FIELDS. 


in  Edingdon's  time  and  left  Winchester  with  only  two  thousand  in- 
habitants, yet  his  architectural  works  were  many  and  ambitious,  both 
within  and  without  his  cathedral.  From  1367  to  i486  (a  period  of  a 
hundred  and  nineteen  years)  the  chair  w^as  filled  by  three  prelates 
only,  and  each  was  a  man  of  e.xceptional  note,  ev^en  for  a  bishop  of 
Winchester — William  of  Wykeham,  Cardinal  Beaufort,  and  William 
Waynflete.  Before  I  speak  of  them,  however,  it  will  be  best  to  glance 
at  the  fabric  of  the  cathedral  church  upon  which  Wykeham  imperish- 
ably  set  his  seal. 


266 


English  Cathedrals. 


Ill 

TnK  ambiguous  words  of  early 
writers  led,  even  in  mediaeval  times, 
to  a  belief  that  Walkelin  the  Nor- 
man did  not  entirely  renew  Hthel- 
wold's  cathedral,  built  only  a  hun- 
dred years  before.  It  was  long 
argued  that  its  tower  at  least  re- 
mained, to  fall  upon  the  grave  of 
Rutus,  and  that  the  new  tower  was 
called  by  Walkelin's  name  because 
it  was  raised  with  moneys  which 
he  had  bequeathed.  Hut  it  is 
certain  now  that  a  new  site  was 
chosen  for  the  Norman  church,  the 
Saxon  cluircli  standing  close  beside 
it  until  it  was  complete ;  and  that 
Walkelin's  tower  did  fall, — as  two 
centuries  later  fell  the  one  which 
his  brother,  Bishop  Simeon,  erected 
at  El\-, — and  was  promptly  rebuilt 
as  we  see  it  to-day. 

Walkelin's  church  was  begun  in 
1076  and  dedicated,  with  intinite 
pomp,  in  1093.  T^he  purely  Nor- 
man character  of  the  crypt  helps 
to  prove  the  change  of  site,  and 
its  plan  shows  that  the  shape  of 
the  east  end  of  the  church  above 
must  have  been  more  complex 
than  that  of  most  Anglo-Norman 
churches.  The  singers'  choir 
projected  as  usual  acro.ss  the  in- 
tersection of  nave  and  transept,  and  it  has  never  been  withdrawn 
within  the  eastern  limb — the  architectural  choir — as  it  has  in  many 
other  cases.  The  presbytery  beyond  it  ended,  at  about  the  point 
marked  X  on  our  plan,  in  the  customary  semicircular  apse.  But 
around  this  apse  a  wide  aisle  was  carried,  flanked  by  a  pair  of  towers ; 

1  Winchester  Cathedral  measures  556  feet  in  length  inside  its  walls,  and  208  feet  across  the  transept. 


0 

0 

0 

"fT. 

0 

CJ 

0 

0 

0 

0 

0 

1    0 

B 

• 

JR 

# 

# 

V 

0 

0 

© 

0 

0 

0 

r^^ 


PLAN   OK    WTNCHKSTtK   CATHEDRAL.' 
FROM  Murray's  "handbook  to  the  cathedrals 

OF    ENGLAND." 

Nave.  2,  Transept.  3.  Choir  4.  Retrochoir.  5,  Sl>'pe 
or  Passageway  between  the  Church  and  the  Chapter-house, 
now  destroyed.  A,  Wykcham's  Cliantr>',  B,  Font.  D. 
Edingdon's  Chantr>*.  t.  Chapel  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre. 
G,  Tomb  of  William  Riifus.  H,  Ilishop  Fox's  Chantry.  I, 
Bishop  Gardiner's  Chantry.  K,  Cardinal  Beaufort's  Chan- 
try. L,  Bishop  Waynflete's  Chanirj'.  N,  Bishop  de  Lucy's 
P.  Chapel    rjf  the    Guardian    Angcts,      Q,   Lady 


Tomb, 
chapel 
stede's  Chapel  and  Isaak  Walton's  Tomb, 


ngcls,      tj,   L^dv- 
chapel.      R,   Bi^^hop  Langtnn's  Chantry.     T,  Bishop    SiIk 

■     "■      ■     \v    


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul- — I  Winchester.     267 

and  a  great  doorway  in  the  centre  of  the  curve  admitted  to  a  narrower 
Lady-chapel,  which  extended  past  the  point  marked  N  on  the  plan. 
Modern  excavations  have  shown  that  the  nave  stretched  forty  feet  far- 
ther toward  the  west  than  the  line  of  its  present  front,  and  had  two 
enormous  towers.'  Except  the  transept  no  part  of  this  vast  church  — 
five  hundred  feet  in  length  —  now  stands  intact;  and  the  gradual  pro- 
cess by  which  the  whole  of  the  longer  limb  was  reconstructed  is  per- 
haps the  most  curious  on  record. 

In  the  year  1202  Bishop  de  Lucy  began,  in  the  Early  English  style, 
a  new  retrochoir  and  Lady-chapel,  starting  at  the  fourth  pier  to  the 
eastward  of  the  crossing.  His  exterior  walls  were  constructed  first  and 
carried  past  the  narrow  Norman  Lady-chapel  without  disturbing  it. 
Later,  this  chapel,  together  with  the  aisle  around  the  apse,  was  torn 
down  and  new  pier-arcades  and  vaults  were  built.  The  old  apse  stood 
inside  this  newer  work  until  1320,  when  the  present  termination  of  the 
presbytery  was  built  in  the  Decorated  style,  with  a  great  window  in 
the  gable  rising  close  behind  the  high  altar,  far  above  the  lower  roofs 
of  De  Lucy's  retrochoir.  In  1350,  in  the  time  of  Bishop  Edingdon, 
the  central  alley  of  the  four  choir-bays  next  the  crossing  was  rebuilt  in 
an  early  Perpendicular  style,  while  their  Norman  aisles  were  still  suf- 
fered to  remain.  Then  Edingdon  tore  down  the  west  end  of  the  church 
with  its  towers,  rebuilt  it  forty  feet  farther  to  the  eastward,  and  began 
to  rebuild  the  nave.  William  of  Wykeham  continued  his  work,  leaving 
it  at  his  death,  in  1404,  to  be  finished  by  his  successors.  About  1470 
the  Lady-chapel  was  lengthened  toward  the  east,  where  three  chapels 
of  equal  depth  had  hitherto  stood  side  by  side.  After  the  year  1500 
the  Norman  aisles  of  the  choir  were  at  last  reconstructed  in  a  style 
like  that  of  Wykeham's  nave.  For  fifty  years  longer  splendid  tombs 
and  chantries  were  erected  in  late  Perpendicular  ways,  and  Renaissance 
architects  then  added  their  quota  in  the  shape  of  minor  decorative  fea- 
tures. And  thus,  although  its  general  aspect  is  Perpendicular,  there 
is  no  style  or  period  later  than  the  Conquest  which  is  not  represented 
in  this  remarkably  handled  church. 

Not  much  need  be  said  about  the  Norman  transept.  It  has  an  aisle 
on  each  side,  and  across  each  end  runs  another  which  rises  only  to  the 
level  of  the  springing  of  the  arches,  where  it  bears  a  narrow  gallery. 
The  tower  was  once  open  as  a  lantern  to  its  full  height,  but  was  ceiled 
lower  down  in  the  time  of  Charles  I.     The  four  piers  that  support  it  are 

1  The  nave-aisles  seem  to  have  ended  where  they  do  to-day,  and  the  extension  probably  consisted  of  a  wide 
vestibule  flanked  by  the  towers,  or  a  sort  of  western  transept. 


268 


English  Catlicih'als. 


extraordinarily  massive,  and  their  masonry  is  distinctly  of  two  different 
dates,  while  the  four  piers  next  them  in  the  transept  are  stronger  than 
those  beyond  and  likewise  show  marks  of  alteration.  Yet  all  the  work 
is  Norman,  and  thus  structural  as  well  as  historical  voices  witness  that 

Walkelin's  great  tower  fell,  fright- 
ening his  successors  into  sturdier 
building. 

Striking  indeed  is  the  contrast 
between  these  stern  and  massive 
transept-arms  and  the  rich  per- 
spectives which  stretch  out  east 
and  west.  The  picture  on  this 
page  puts  the  spectator  upon  the 
raised  floor  of  the  southern  aisle 
of  the  choir.  A  vast  Norman 
arch  curves  above  him.  To  the 
riglit  he  sees  the  wall  which  in- 
closes the  ritual  choir,  still  e.\- 
tending  in  the  Norman  fashion 
beneath  the  tower;  and  if  he 
bends  forward  aiul  looks  to  the 
left,  the  bald  majesty  of  the  tran- 
sept is  relieved  by  few  touches  of 
carven  decoration.  But  the  wall 
of  the  ritual  choir  is  adorned  with 
the  work  of  a  much  later  age ; 
behind  him  extends  the  late-built 
Perpendicular  choir-aisle,  with  the 
simpler  yet  light  and  graceful 
Lancet- Pointed  work  of  De  Lucy 
beyond  it,  flanked  by  luxuriant 
Perpendicular  chantries;  and  opposite  him,  under  the  tall  slim  arch 
■which  Wykeham  designed,  stretches  the  long  south  aisle  of  the  nave — 
sharply  pointed,  richly  adorned,  looking  like  the  work,  not  only  of 
another  age,  but  of  another  race  than  that  which  built  the  massive 
stilted  semicircle  above  his  head. 


.->(ll    I  H     A(.->i.l-.    Or      1  HI'.    I  Hulk. 

LOOKING   WEST. 


IV 


Crossing  the  transept  now  and  turning  into  the  nave,  we  see  one  of 
the  most  singular  and  interesting  architectural  works  in  the  world.     In 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul —  IVinchester.     269 


many  other  churches  there  are  major  or  minor  parts  which  have  been 
changed  by  the  touch  of  later  ages  into  marked  unHkeness  with  their 
former  selves.  But  nowhere  else  in  England  was  such  a  transforma- 
tion effected  on  so  vast  a  scale,  and  yet  nowhere  did  it  leave  so  little 
patent  evidence  of  change  behind  it. 

When  Edingdon,  as  I  have  told,  saw  fit  to  take  the  nave  in  hand  he 
pulled  down  the  western  end.  The  present  west  front  is  entirely  his 
work,  inside  and  out,  except  for  the  turrets  and  gable  which  were  added 
by  Wykeham  ;  and  so  are 
the  aisle-walls  and  win- 
dows of  one  bay  on  the 
southern  and  two  on  the 
northern  side  of  the  nave. 
But  when  Wykeham  took 
up  his  task  he  showed  a 
more  economical  yet  a 
bolder  spirit.  He  tore 
down  only  a  portion  of 
the  fabric  and  then  added 
what  was  lacking  to  define 
the  proportions  and  com- 
plete the  features  of  a  Per- 
pendicular design.  Just 
how  he  went  to  work  is 
clearly  shown  in  the  illus- 
tration on  this  page,  which 
was  first  printed  with  Pro- 
fessor Willis's  admirable 
account  of  the  cathedral. 
The  right-hand  compart- 
ment shows  the  original 
design  of  the  nave  (sim- 
ilar to  the  design  which 
remains  in  the  transept), 
with    its    pier-arcade,  tri- 

forium,  and  clearstory  of  almost  equal  height ;  on  the  left  we  see  how 
much  Wykeham  took  away  —  the  pier-arch,  the  sub-arches  of  the 
triforium,  and  the  whole  front  of  the  clearstory  stage;  and  the  middle 
compartment  shows  what  he  added — a  pier-arch,  much  loftier  and 
slighter  than  its  predecessor,  and  a  tall  clearstory,  the  lower  part  of 


DIAGRAM   SHOWING  WYKEHAM'S   TRANSFORMATION  OF 
THE  NAVE. 


FROM  MURRAVS    "  HANDBOOK. 


270  English  Cathedrals. 

which,  with  its  blank  traceries  on  the  solid  wall  and  its  projecting 
parapet,  simulates  a  triforium  and,  indeed,  incloses  a  passage  which 
opens  into  the  nave  through  small  plain  windows.  On  the  outside 
of  the  building  only  two  stories  show,  the  outer  wall  of  the  aisle  being 
carried  as  high  as  the  base  of  the  glazed  clearstory  lights.  The 
elaborate  vaults  of  nave  and  aisles  are  part  of  Wykeham's  design,  and 
were  finished  by  Beaufort  and  Waynflete.  In  the  first  portion  of  the 
work  that  Wykeham  himself  accomplished  he  allowed  many  of  the 
Norman  surface-stones  to  remain,  shaping  the  piers  to  the  proper  form 
by  cutting  Perpendicular  mouldings  upon  them.  But  he  found  this 
process  too  troublesome  or  too  costly,  for  the  portions  afterward  built 
are  entirely  cased  with  stonework  of  his  time,  behind  which,  how- 
ever, the   sturdy  Norman   core  remains. 

A  fine  Norman  font  stands  on  the  north  side  of  the  nave,  and  on  the 
south  side,  fittingly  placed  amid  the  works  of  their  hands,  are  the  sump- 
tuous chantries  of  Edingdon  and  Wykeham.  Wykeham's  is  an  espe- 
cially beautiful  piece  of  work — a  tall  rectangular  structure,  with  sides 
that  are  open  above  a  solid  wall  some  ten  feet  in  height,  and  a  canopy 
supported  on  slender  shafts  and  faced  with  graceful  gables.  Within  it, 
on  an  altar-tomb,  lies  the  effigy  of  the  great  architect  in  full  canonicals, 
two  angels  bearing  his  pillow  and  three  monks  praying  at  his  feet.  A 
great  square  minstrel-gallery  fills  the  west  end  of  the  north  aisle,  and 
in  both  aisles,  as  in  those  of  the  transept,  are  many  monuments  of  many 
dates.  Only  two  need  be  noted  as  bringing  a  breath  of  warmer  feel- 
ing, of  closer  kinship,  among  the  vague  impersonal  memories  which 
haunt  us  in  a  church  like  this.  On  two  simple  slabs  in  the  pavement 
we  read  the  names  of  Jane  Austen  and  Isaak  Walton  ;  and  to  me  such 
names  have  always  seemed  more  impressive  in  places  where  the  dead 
of  whom  they  witness  often  knelt  in  life,  than  when  huddled  with  a 
hundred  others  on  the  pavement  of  the  great  half-church,  half-museum 
at  Westminster. 

The  eastern  end  of  the  central  alley  of  the  nave  is  filled  for  the  space 
of  two  bays  with  the  steps  and  platform  which  lead  to  the  choir-screen. 
Above  them  in  old  times  there  stretched  a  rood-loft  on  which  stood  a 
great  silver  crucifix,  built  by  Stigand  with  Queen  Emma's  money  and 
transferred  from  the  Saxofi  church ;  and  on  the  head  of  its  Christ  was 
long  preserved  King  Canute's  crown  of  gold.  Norman  capitals  and 
mouldings,  which  were  once  concealed  by  this  rood-loft,  still  remain  on 
the  two  flanking  piers,  in  proof  that  Wykeham  did  not  disturb  it. 
Doubtless  it  perished  in  the  great  desecration  of  the  church  which  was 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul— Winchester,     a/r 


\mm 


1 1 'I  ■■  li-^-t-' 


■it  f- 


,  1 J    " 


■■■■'"1  Tiriv1f"lfc« 


THE  CHOIR  AN'D   PRESBYTERY,  LOOKING  EAST. 


272  English  Cathedrals. 

ordered  in  the  time  of  litlward  \'l.  The  screen  which  shuts  in  the 
choir  is  not  tlie  medi^eval  one,  or  the  Renaissance  one  which  Inigo 
Jones  designed,  but  a  recent  construction  of  oak. 

No  part  of  the  cathedral  is  more  interesting  than  the  triforium-pas- 
sage  in  the  nave.  It  e.xtends  over  the  whole  width  of  the  aisle,  but 
is  not  floored,  so  one  must  keep  carefully  to  the  narrow  raised  paths 
which  mark  the  crest  of  the  aisle-vaults,  lest  a  slip  be  made  in  the  thick 
gloom  into  the  hollows  which  yawn,  several  feet  in  depth,  between 
them.  Yet  the  little  windows  into  the  nave  can  be  gingerly  approached, 
and  the  view  is  well  worth  getting,  while  over  these  windows  we  can 
trace  the  great  semicircular  arches  of  the  old  Norman  triforiuni,  liuill 
into  the  back  of  Wykeham's  wall. 


V 

Only  in  the  aisles  can  a  view  of  the  whole  length  of  Winchester 
■Cathedral  be  obtained.  From  the  nave  the  choir-screen  breaks  the 
perspective,  and  though  it  is  low  and  does  not,  as  so  often,  bear  the 
organ,  and  therefore  the  eye  can  follow  above  it  the  reach  of  the  choir- 
arcades  and  ceiling,  yet  just  back  of  the  high  altar  comes  the  end  wall 
of  the  presbytery.  And  even  when  we  enter  the  presbytery,  where, 
under  its  eastern  pier-arcade,  a  view  into  the  retrochoir  and  Lady- 
chapel  might  be  had,  we  find  this  view  blocked  by  a  tall  reredos,  so 
that  it  almost  seems  as  though  the  church  ended  here. ^  But  we  may 
question  whether  the  vast  length  is  not  thus  made  doubly  effective. 
From  the  western  door  to  the  end  of  the  presbytery  is  a  stretch  of  390 
feet;  and  when  our  steps  have  covered  this,  and  we  find  another  wide 
long  lower  space  beyond,  we  realize  indeed  the  magnitude  of  a  church 
which  is  556  feet  in  length. 

The  choir  proper  is  e.xtremely  rich  and  beautiful,  keeping  still  its 
-carved  stalls  of  the  Decorated  period,  the  oldest  in  the  country  except 
the  Early  English  stalls  at  Exeter.  The  pulpit  dates  from  about  1500, 
but  the  episcopal  throne  is  modern. 

The  end  of  the  presbytery  is  very  slightly  polygonal  instead  of  rec- 
tangular in  shape  —  a  fact  that  is  hardly  appreciated  at  first  sight,  for  the 
reredos,  cutting  across  it,  rises  above  the  level  of  the  triforium-gallery. 
This  reredos  was  built  about  the  year  1500,  and  when  its  whiteness 
Avas  hid  with  color,  and  its  many  niches  bore  each  a  statue  of  consider- 

1  The  picture  on  page  271  shows  the  interior  effect  of  the  presbytery  window  and  the  reredos,  while  the 
exterior  view  on  page  294  shows  the  relative  heights  of  presbytery  and  retrochoir. 


Caihedrai  of  Si.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Winchester.    273 


;!lj^il  '§i 


1  *  r  p.'  St  !■!  ;    ii    I  r  '  I  lii       : 


' 


l^--^'fifl' 


'.z^- 


IN   THE   RETROCHOIR. 


able  size,  it  must  liave  been  magnificently  effective.  But  magnificent 
is  not  the  word  to  use  of  a  picture  which  now  hangs  against  it  just 
above  the  ahar — America's  only  gift  to  this  mother-city  of  our  race.  It 
was  painted  by  Benjamin  West;  we  console  ourselves  with  the  thought 
that  he  did  pretty  well  considering  the  time  when  he  lived. 

From  pier  to  pier  between  the  presbytery  and  its  aisles  run  screens 
of  stone  tracery  built  by  Bishop  Fox  about  1525,  when  Renaissance 
fashions  were  making  their  way  in  England.     Upon  these  screens  six 
18 


2  74  English  Cathedrals. 

mortuary  chests  are  placed,  bearing  a  series  of  names  unsystematicaily 
writlcn  —  those  of  Canute  and  Queen  Emma  and  Rufus,  and  of  various 
early  bishops  and  West-Saxon  kings.  Pre-Norni;in  interments  were 
made,  of  course,  in  the  crypt  of  the  Saxon  cathedral,  and  here  the  bones 
which  now  fill  these  chests  remained  until  the  time  of  Bishop  Henry  of 
Blois.  Wishing  to  bring  them  into  the  Norman  church,  he  found  nei- 
ther name  nor  date  on  any  tomb,  so  he  mingled  the  relics  together  and 
inclosed  them  in  leaden  coffins.  Later,  these  chests  were  built  to  hold 
them,  but  as  they  were  opened  by  the  soldiers  of  Cromwell  it  is  trebly 
difficult  to  guess  whose  scant  remains  may  lie  beneath  their  lids.  In  a 
certain  Continental  gallery  there  hangs  a  big  old  picture  of  the  Resur- 
rection, where  sit  busy  angels  making  whole  and  homogeneous  skele- 
tons with  the  bones  which  they  take  from  the  earth  at  their  feet.  Their 
fellows  who  may  be  assigned  to  service  in  St.  Swithun's  Abbey  will  have 
a  task  for  the  cleverest ;  for  not  only  in  these  chests  but  in  many  tombs 
and  chantries  time  and  human  curiosity  have  sadly  muddled  the  record 
of  the  genesis  of  their  contents.  A  plain  coped  tomb,  for  instance,  is 
assicfned  to  William  Rufus.  But  is  his  name  not  on  one  of  the  chests? 
And  is  there  not  some  evidence  to  prove  that  the  body  of  Henry  of 
Blois,  superbest  bishop  of  them  all,  really  fills  this  poor  letterless  grave  ? 
Between  the  back  of  the  reredos  and  the  piers  which  bear  the  end 
wall  of  the  presbytery  and  divide  it  from  the  retrochoir  is  a  small  open 
space  that  once  was  the  feretory  or  relic-chamber  of  the  church,  and, 
before  the  reredos  was  built,  must  have  been  visible  even  from  the 
western  doorway  of  the  nave.  It  held  the  shrines  of  St.  Swithun  and 
St.  Birinus  in  the  holy  neighborhood  of  the  high  altar.  Now  it  is  a 
relic-chamber  of  art  filled  with  pitiful  sculptured  fragments  and  bits  of 
architectural  decoration.  Its  fioor  is  consideral>ly  higher  than  that  of 
the  retrochoir,  and  its  back  thus  forms  a  wall  which  in  the  Decorated 
period  was  beautifully  worked  into  canopied  niches.  A  glimpse  of  these 
niches,  bare  now  of  the  royal  memorials  that  filled  them,  is  given  in  the 
picture  on  page  273,  where  we  look  between  the  splendid  oratory- 
tombs  of  Bishops  Beaufort  and  Fox.  The  other  side  of  Beaufort'.s 
chantry  is  partly  shown  in  the  illustration  on  page  275,  where  we  stand, 
facing  east,  in  the  central  alley  of  the  retrochoir — with  this  chantry  on 
our  right  and  Waynflete's  on  our  left — and  look  into  the  Lady-chapel 
over  its  open  screen.  The  simplest  of  the  three  tombs  on  the  floor  is 
said  to  be  De  Lucy's,  and  the  next  is  the  one  attributed  to  the  Red 
King.  The  whole  effect  of  the  retrochoir  is  very  splendid,  and  although 
grandeur  lacks  through  the  lowness  of  the  roof,  we  do  not  miss  it  in  a 


Cathedra/  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paid — I^Finchester.     275 

place  like  this — an  adjunct  to  the  main  body  of  the  church,  and  impres- 
sive most  of  all  as  the  home  of  the  mighty  dead.  De  Lucy's  Early 
English  piers  are  exquisitely  wrought — many-shafted  and  crowned 
with  curling  rows  of  leaves  from  which  the  vaulting-ribs  diverge,  close 
over  the  crowded  sheaf-like  pinnacles  of  the  great  Perpendicular  tombs. 


IN  THE  RETROCHOIR,  LOOKING   EAST. 


The  elaborateness  of  such  tombs  is  not  more  remarkable  than  their 
variety  in  design  or  their  exquisite  skill  in  execution.  It  is  true  that 
the  tiny  figures  with  which,  as  we  have  seen  at  Ely,  their  multitudinous 
little  niches  were  filled,  have  almost  all  disappeared  ;  luit  the  niches 


276  English  Cathedrals. 

themselves  and  the  foHage-uork  which  surrounds  them  are  often  per- 
fectly preserved;  and  the  more  we  examine,  the  more  we  marvel. 
Each  of  these  miniature  niches  is  a  complete  architectural  composition, 
with  piers  —  only  three  or  four  inches  high,  but  perfect  in  base  and  shaft 
and  ornamented  capital  —  bearing'  a  canopy,  perhaps  two  inches  across, 
finished  inside  as  a  fairy-like  vault;  each  is  different  from  all  the  others 
in  the  pattern  of  its  ornaments  and  its  vault;  all  are  so  daintily,  lacily 
minute  that  they  seem  to  have  been  woven  by  spiders,  not  carved  by 
men;  and  yet  all,  like  the  leafy  designs  in  relief  which  surround  them, 
are  cut  with  the  freest,  most  spirited  touch.  As  the  style  developed  the 
general  design  grew  in  elaborateness,  such  gables  as  those  on  Wyke- 
ham's  chantry,  for  instance,  being  succeeded  b\-  tall  sheaves  of  fretted 
pinnacles.  There  is  much  less  purity  and  simple  grandeur  in  the  con- 
structional scheme  than  the  monuments  of  the  Decorated  and  Early 
English  periods  exhibit,  and  the  ornamental  scheme  is  not  nearly  so 
dignified  or,  in  its  main  forms,  so  graceful.  But  a  rich  sumptuousness 
makes  us  forget  the  lack  of  nobler  qualities,  and  a  fertile  play  of  fancy 
conceals  the  lack  of  high  imagination. 

North  of  the  Lady-chapel  is  a  beautiful  one  called  the  Guardian 
Angels',  from  the  thirteenth-century  carvings  on  the  vault.  It  has  been 
sadly  hurt,  however,  by  the  intrusion  of  a  huge  seventeenth-century 
tomb.  Its  mate  to  the  southward  was  fitted  as  a  chantry  for  himself  by- 
Bishop  Langton,  who  died  in  1500,  and  shows  his  Perpendicular  work 
mixed  with  De  Lucy's  Lancet- Pointed. 

The  Lady-chapel  itself  is  a  picturesque  intermingling  of  features  of 
many  dates.  The  original  look  of  De  Lucy's  walls  is  suggested,  above 
the  screen,  in  the  picture  on  page  275;  but  they  have  been  faced  below 
with  Perpendicular  paneling,  and  the  eastern  part  of  the  chapel  is  en- 
tirely in  this  style,  with  great  windows  to  the  north  and  east  and  south, 
and  a  singularly  complex  and  pretty  pattern  in  the  vault.  Priors  Hun- 
ton  and  Silkstede  did  this  work,  and  added  the  screens  and  seats  and 
desks,  not  long  before  their  successor  was  ousted,  with  all  his  monks, 
by  the  order  of  Henry  VHI.  Some  of  the  original  stained  glass  still  re- 
mains in  this  chapel ;  much  of  its  carving  shows  traces  of  gay  color ;  and 
it  is  filled,  moreover,  w  ith  the  ghosts  of  a  very  distinguished  company. 

To  Winchester  in  the  year  1554  came  Queen  Mary  to  meet  her 
Spanish  bridegroom,  and  they  w^ere  married  in  the  Lady-chapel.  Gor- 
geous indeed  must  have  been  the  scene,  the  crowd  of  "blonde  English 
and  swarthy  Spaniards"  overflowing  the  little  chapel  and  even  the 
retrochoir  into  the  church  itself,  bright  silks  and  dusky  velvets  finding 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  —  JVinchester.    277 

a  good  background  in  the  lace-like  sides  of  screens  and  chantries. 
And  what  a  meeting-place  of  memories  and  portents !  The  kingdom 
of  England  had  been  born  here  where  gray  Arthurian  legends  lingered, 
and  its  first  dynasty  lay  at  rest  within  these  walls.  Norman  England 
had  built  the  walls,  and  Angevin  England,  whose  kings  were  still  aliens 
from  their  people,  had  likewise  left  its  record  on  many  a  solemn  stone. 
The  days  of  Lancaster  and  York,  when,  with  all  the  quarreling,  king 
and  people  were  again  English  in  heart  as  well  as  name — these  too 
were  interpreted  by  spectral  voices  which  spoke,  for  instance,  of  ano- 
ther royal  wedding  when,  in  front  of  the  high  altar,  Wykeham  had 
married  Henry  IV.  to  Joan  of  Navarre.  Tudor  England  had  its  me- 
morials in  the  Lady-chapel  itself — among  them  a  shield  with  the  names 
of  Henry  VIL,  his  wife,  and  his  first  son,  Arthur,  who  had  been  born  by 
Henry's  desire  at  Winchester  and  named  for  the  legendary  British  king. 
The  England  which  his  granddaughter  governed  seemed,  just  now,  to 
be  giving  itself  into  the  hands  of  aliens  again.  But  the  new  England, 
Protestant  England,  the  England  that  was  to  be  great  and  glorious 
abroad  and  also  free  at  home,  was  predicted  by  the  axe  and  hammer 
strokes  of  the  henchmen  of  Edward  VL, — fresh  scars  when  his  sister 
married, — and  must  have  muttered  in  the  bosoms  of  a  hundred  knights, 
loyal  to  England  and  half  disloyal  therefore  to  the  luckless,  fanatical, 
Spaniard-loving  queen.  Of  all  the  strange  conjunctions  of  this  strange 
day  none  seems  so  curious  in  the  light  of  later  facts  as  the  one  which 
brought  the  Marquis  of  Alva  and  the  Count  of  Egmont  —  the  "devil  of 
Spain  "  and  the  martyr  of  Flanders — side  by  side  among  the  courtiers 
of  Philip.  The  velvet  chair  on  which  Queen  Mary  sat  may  still  be  seen 
in  the  chapel,  and  Bishop  Gardiner — malleus  hcrrcticornm,  who  had 
crowned  her  at  Westminster  and  plighted  her  at  Winchester — lies 
buried  in  the  splendid  Renaissance  chantry  which  he  built  for  himself 
to  the  north  of  the  his^h  altar  of  his  church. 


VI 

Often  we  are  told  that  some  bishop,  prior,  or  other  high-placed 
functionary  "built"  this  or  that  portion  of  his  cathedral  church.  As 
such  words  are  commonly  written  and  accepted,  they  are  cruel  to  the 
memory  of  the  nameless  architect  who  was  paid  from  the  ecclesiastic's 
purse  or  worked  under  his  nominal  control.  But  it  is  strictly  just  to 
speak  of  Wykeham  as  his  own  architect.  The  record  of  his  life  is  clear 
and  full,  and  it  puts  him  high  among  those  who  influenced  the  course 
18* 


278 


English  Cafhcdyah. 


of  mediaeval  art.  In  imaginative  power  other  Englishmen  rank  above 
him,  known  or  unknown  to  us  by  name.  He  never  grasped  so  new 
and  fortunate  a  structural  idea  as  that  which  Alan  of  Walsingham  ex- 
pressed in  the  lantern  of  Ely;  he  never  conceived  so  individual,  effec- 
tive, and  daring,  if  irrational,  a  feature  as  did  the  forgotten  man  who 
built  the  portico  of  Peterborough;  nor  were  any  of  his  works  so  beau- 
tiful and  poetic  as  the  Nine  Altars  at  Durham.  But  talents  are  largely 
limited  by  times.      The  style  in  which,  l)y  the  tendencies  of  his  period. 


THE  .S  \\  I.   WIJ   TRANSEPT.    FROM   THE   NORTHWEST. 


Wykeham  was  forced  to  labor,  was  intrinsically  less  imaginative  than 
those  which  had  gone  before ;  and  when  we  see  how  admirably  he  met 
the  needs  and  employed  the  resources  of  his  period,  we  can  believe 
that,  born  in  a  difterent  period,  he  would  still  have  stood  a  head  above 
his  fellows. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  Wykeham  "invented"  the  Perpendicular 
style.  Edingdon,  of  course,  used  it  before  him  in  Winchester  Cathe- 
dral; but  Wykeham  had  long  been  occupied  with  architecture  when  he 
followed  Edingdon  as  bishop,  and  undoubtedly  had  contributed  much 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Winchester.     279 

to  the  development  of  the  fashion  which  he  then  so  ably  used.  Yet  no 
one  man  can  ever  have  created  a  style.  Some  one  individual,  of  course, 
must  first  have  used  in  the  new  way  each  of  the  elements  that  were  to 
grow  together  into  a  new  style;  but  these  elements  are  many;  only 
the  development  of  all  of  them  together  creates  the  novel  manner;  and 
many  men  must  work  for  many  years,  through  a  period  we  call  tran- 
sitional, before  it  is  definitely  "invented."  Look,  for  instance,  at  a 
single  element — the  window.  No  type  of  window  is  more  distinctly 
marked  than  the  Perpendicular,  yet  it  is  impossible  to  say  just  when  it 
originated.  We  must  retrace  half  a  dozen  successive  steps  to  unite 
its  perfect  type  with  the  perfect  type  of  the  flowing-Decorated  window  ; 
and  when  its  characteristic  upright  members  first  appear  they  give  but 
a  far-off  hint  of  its  eventual  aspect. 

Yet  William  of  Wykeham  has  honor  enough.  He  took  a  nascent 
style  in  hand  and  worked  it  out  with  masterly  skill.  Other  men  car- 
ried it  further  after  his  death,  making  it  still  more  radically  unlike 
preceding  styles.  But  it  was  a  complete  and  individual  style  when 
Wykeham  left  it,  and  he  was  seldom  equaled  in  certain  important  mat- 
ters of  treatment.  Few  architects  of  the  Perpendicular  period  had  so 
keen  a  feeling  as  he  for  the  value  of  beautiful  proportions,  or  for  the 
right  relative  importance  of  constructional  features,  and  his  decorative 
work  is  singularly  pure  and  charming. 

It  is  interesting  to  compare  his  nave  at  Winchester  with  the  contem- 
porary nave  of  Canterbury.  Here  the  builders  had  a  freer  hand,  be- 
ginning their  work  afresh  from  the  ground ;  and  their  rich  clusters  of 
vaulting- shafts,  running  from  floor  to  ceiling,  are  much  more  beautiful 
than  Wykeham's  simpler  shafts.  But  in  everything  else  Wykeham's 
work  is  far  superior,  and  especially  as  regards  the  treatment  of  the 
great  pier-arches.  There  is  no  more  color  now  on  the  walls  or  in  the 
windows  of  Winchester  than  of  Canterbury,  yet  Winchester  seems  far 
less  barren,  cold,  and  thin,  for  the  main  lines  of  the  design  are  much 
more  vigorous,  and  the  main  features  are  much  more  harmoniously 
proportioned. 

It  is  interesting,  also,  to  look  at  the  outer  wall  of  the  north  aisle  of 
Winchester  and  see  how  much  better,  in  their  shape  and  their  tracery- 
patterns,  are  Wykeham's  windows  than  those  of  his  predecessor.  Bishop 
Edingdon. 

Perpendicular  is  so  unlike  Decorated  Gothic,  not  only  in  details  but 
in  structural  features  and  general  effect,  that  it  is  hard  at  first  sight 
to  see  how  the  one  can  have  developed  from  the  other.     And  in  truth, 


28o  English  Cathedrals. 

although  the  change  was  really  a  developiiKiU  —  not  an  abandoning  of 
one  great  architectural  inelhod  for  another,  like  the  passage  from  Per- 
pendicular Gothic  to  Renaissance  art — it  was  nevertheless  a  reaction. 
In  its  latest  phase  the  Decorated  style  is  excessively  flowing  and  soft, 
redundantly  rich,  cloying  in  its  sweetness,  almost  emasculate  in  its 
elegance.  When  we  see  how  siiort  a  time  it  lived  and  liow  long  the 
Perpendicular  style  persisted,  and  when  we  remember  that  it  was  not 
of  native  birth  while  the  Perpendicular  style  was  wholly  Knglish  in 
origin,  development,  and  life,  we  feel  that  it  was  not  in  essential  accord 
with  English  taste.  The  design  of  the  triforium  in  the  choir  of  Ely 
might  almost  be  mistaken  for  a  bit  of  work  from  Spain  or  Portugal ; 
and  for  generations  these  countries  filled  themselves  with  work  of  simi- 
lar exuberance  which  naturally  passed  into  an  exuberant  form  of  Re- 
naissance. Hut  the  more  serious  northern  spirit  loved  such  work  less, 
soon  abandoned  it,  and  invented  a  more  sober,  prosaic,  unimaginative 
style,  which  was  eventually  exchanged  for  a  sober  type  of  Renaissance. 
First,  as  though  to  relieve  the  tangled  delicacy  of  the  traceries,  a  few 
short,  straight  lines  were  introduced  in  the  arch-heads;  and  they  grad- 
ually spread  through  the  whole  window  and  over  all  the  wall-spaces  as 
well,  so  that  the  entire  building  seemed  to  be  composed  of  panel-work, 
with  a  background  here  of  stone  and  there  of  painted  glass,  few  curved 
lines  remaining  except  in  the  tiny  trefoiled  arches  with  which  the  rec- 
tangular panels  were  filled.  .As  these  rectangular  designs  were  not  in 
harmony  with  the  old  aspiring  shapes  of  the  arches,  lower  obtuser  arch- 
forms  were  adopted,  two-centred  being  exchanged  for  four-centred 
types.*  The  four-centred  arch  proved  extremely  useful  because  it  could 
easily  be  adapted  to  openings  of  any  relative  dimensions;  and  its  effect 
is  good  in  doorways  like  the  one  in  Winchester's  fagade,  or  in  purely 
decorative  work  like  the  overlays  which  we  shall  see  in  the  choir  of 
Gloucester.  lUit  in  important  constructional  features — in  pier-arcades, 
for  instance,  and  very  large  wall-like  windows — it  has  a  look  of  weak- 

1  .\  two-centred  arch  is  formed  by  segments  of  occurs  in  the  main  exterior  moulding  above  the  east 

two  intersecting  circles :  and  when  it  is  designed  window  al  Gloucester  (see  illustration  in  Chapter 

these  circles  must  be  imagined  and  their  centres  XI).     In  a  true  Perpendicular  arch  the  change  in 

marked.     In  a  four-centred  arch  each  side  assumes  curvature  conies,  not  near  the  apex,  but  near  the 

two  different  curves,  and  four  centres  must  be  estab-  springing-poini,  and   the  individuality  of  the  form 

lishcd  when  it  is  drawn.     .■Ml  the  pointed  arches  of  grows  more  and  more  pronounced  as,  with  the  lapse 

earlier  times  are  two-centred,  no  matter  what  their  of  time,  it  assumes  proportions  which  are  more  and 

proportions   may  be.      But   in  the  late  Decorated  more  depressed.  Compare,  in  this  respect,  the  earlier 

period  the  ogee  arch,  with  a  reversed  curve  toward  Perpendicular  arch  in  the  screening  of  the  southern 

its  apex,  was  introduced.     This  form  persisted  in  transept-arm  at  Gloucester  with  the  later  one  in  the 

France, but  was  little  used  in  England, and  is  seldom  northern  transept-arm  (Chapter  XI). 
found  there  on  a  large  scale,  although  an  example 


Cathedyal  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul —  1/Vinc Hester.    281 

ness  and  is  wanting  in  dignity.  This  is  true  even  of  the  pier-arches  in 
VVylceham's  nave,  although  they  diverge  but  slightly  from  a  two- 
centred  form. 

I  have  already  told  how  by  this  time  the  design  of  triforium  and 
clearstory  had  been  changed.  Vaulting-shafts  play  their  true  role  in 
Perpendicular  churches,  as  important  constructional  features  rising  di- 
rectly from  the  floor.  But  their  capitals,  like  those  of  all  minor  shafts, 
have  so  decreased  in  number  and  dwindled  in  size  that  they  scarcely 
influence  the  oreneral  effect  either  from  a  constructional  or  from  a  deco- 

o 

rative  point  of  view ;  and  this  subordination  of  the  capital  means  that 
there  is  no  accentuation  of  the  part  which  the  piers  perform  in  sus- 
taining the  arches  between  them,  as  there  is  where  a  great  compound 
capital  binds  together  the  members  which  bear  the  vaults  and  those 
which  more  directly  support  the  arch-mouldings.  The  mouldings,  too, 
have  changed  their  character,  the  hollows  being  much  shallower,  and 
sharp  arrises  instead  of  gently  profiled  rolls  dividing  them;  the  incon- 
spicuous capitals,  their  abaci,  and  of  course  the  bases  of  their  shafts 
as  well,  have  exchanged  the  round  for  a  polygonal  shape,  and  the 
characteristic  decoration  for  the  bell  of  the  capital  is  a  series  of  tiny 
panelings,  repeating  the  larger  series  employed  elsewhere.  Surely 
there  could  not  be  a  greater  contrast  than  between  these  stiffened, 
straightened  forms,  with  their  monotonous  decoration,  and  the  softly 
flowing  forms  and  rounded  profiles  of  the  Decorated  style,  lavishly 
adorned  with  ornament  which  perpetually  varies  in  its  luxuriance.  The 
best  examples  of  Perpendicular  architecture  have  a  sort  of  formal  state- 
liness,  of  serious  pomposity,  which  is  very  impressive;  but  they  are 
not  beautiful.  Beauty  cannot  be  compassed  without  true  dignity  and 
grace  of  form,  or  without  imagination  in  embellishment ;  but  much 
magnificence  may,  and  we  shall  see  at  York  how  greatly  magnificence 
was  increased,  and  even  architectural  excellence  enhanced,  by  the  pres- 
ence of  richly  tinted  glass. 

The  name  by  which  this  style  is  distinguished  may  seem  a  mis- 
nomer when  we  notice  how  horizontal  lines  everywhere  prevail,  cut- 
ting the  windows  into  many  successive  sections,  and  dividing  the 
wall-spaces  in  a  corresponding  manner.  But  these  lines  are  connecteti 
by  a  multitude  of  short  perpendicular  ones,  and  in  the  traceries  the 
upright  members  so  entirely  control  the  design  that  the  few  curved 
and  flowing  lines  which  accompany  them  play  a  very  minor  part  in 
the  effect.  In  fact,  the  name  "Perpendicular"  seems  to  have  been 
adopted  to  express,  not  so  much  a  greater  effort  after  verticality  in  a 


282  English  Cathedrals. 

general  sense,  as  a  preference  for  ranges  of  short,  straight,  upright 
hnes  in  decoration;  and  it  is  eminently  appropriate  when  we  set  it 
against  the  term  "  flowing,"  applied  to  the  latest  phase  of  the  pre- 
ceding style. 

VII 

Ik  we  could  follow  Wykeham  through  the  many  other  buildings  he 
erected,  we  should  see  how  great  indeed  was  his  talent,  and  how  it 
developed  in  harmony  with  the  new  needs  and  the  characteristic  tem- 
per of  his  time.  Above  all,  he  was  a  great  planner — one  who  could 
meet  novel  practical  requirements  in  novel  ways  yet  give  his  result 
a  truly  homogeneous  and  artistic  air. 

Of  course  one  rejoices  to  find  that  this  great  artist  was  a  great  man 
as  well  —  statesman,  philanthropist,  good  Christian,  model  gentleman, 
one  of  the  purest,  brightest  stars  that  shine  in  the  crown  of  the  Catho- 
lic Church.  He  was  born  in  1324,  of  humble  parents,  at  the  little 
village  of  Wykeham,  in  the  diocese  which  he  afterward  ruled.  At 
the  age  of  twenty-three  he  was  recommended  by  a  local  patron  to 
Bishop  Edingdon,  and  by  him  to  King  Edward  III.,  and  recom- 
mended himself  by  a  "comely  presence"  and  a  tested  skill  in  archi- 
tecture. Before  his  years  had  doubled  he  was  Bishop  of  Winchester, 
and  Lord  High  Chancellor  of  England,  and  before  he  died  he  was 
famous  throughout  the  world  as  one  who  both  designed  and  paid 
for  the  most  splendid  buildings  of  his  land  and  day.  In  the  year 
1356 — when  he  must  already  have  served  in  other  places  —  he  was 
given  charge  of  all  the  king's  works  at  Windsor.  The  new  ward 
of  the  castle,  with  its  chapel  for  the  Order  of  the  Garter,  was  built 
by  him,  and  its  plan  is  still  the  same,  although  in  style  and  effect 
the  walls  have  been  often  altered.  This  success  vastly  helped  his 
fortunes,  and.  says  Froissart,  "he  now  reigned  at  court,  everything 
being  done  by  him  and  nothing  without  him."  He  was  a  trusted 
political  adviser  and  commissioner,  a  judge,  a  high  dignitary  of  the 
Church,  and  a  civil  and  military  architect.  Many  of  the  king's  cas- 
tles were  put  in  good  order  by  his  hand,  and  the  new  fortress 
of  Oueenborough,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Medway,  was  his  in  design 
and  construction.  While  Dean  of  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields  in  Lon- 
don he  rebuilt  his  church  —  where  the  Post  Office  now  stands  —  at 
great  personal  e.xpense.  While  bishop  he  repaired  at  his  own  cost  the 
highroad  from  Winchester  to  London,  renewed  the  beauty  of  all  the 
episcopal  palaces,  gave  ^200,000  (at  the  present  value  of  money)  to 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Pl^inchester.    283 

the  work  on  his  cathedral,  and  built  and  endowed  the  New  College 
at  Oxford.  And  yet  his  most  famous  enterprise  remains  to  tell  —  the 
founding  and  endowment  of  the  college  to  prepare  young  men  for  a 
university  education  which  still  flourishes  at  Winchester,  and  was  the 
first  of  those  secular  establishments  that  have  grown  into  the  great 


,jjjJiJSJi»iii»«"' 
WINCHESTER   HIGH   CROSS,    AT  THE  ENTRANCE  TO  THE  CLOSE. 


public  schools  of  England.  A  devoted  churchman,  Wykeham  had  yet 
the  sense  to  see  that  the  time  had  passed  when  the  Church  could  do 
all  the  intellectual  work  of  the  world;  and  the  same  wisdom  shows  in 
every  phase  and  act  of  his  life.  A  man  of  lowly  birth,  he  develojied 
into  a  typical  courtier,  prompt  in  counsel,  gracious  in  demeanor,  sump- 
tuous in  hospitality ;  yet  he  remained  simple-hearted,  modest,  and 
unselfish,  and  above  all  cavil  in  the  purity  of  his  private  life  and  in 
devotion  to  his  priestly  duties.  The  poor  were  lavishly  fed  at  his 
gates.  He  preached  without  ceasing,  labored  amid  the  sick  and  miser- 
able, disciplined  his  clergy,  and  constantly  visited  all  parts  of  his  see. 


284  Ei/g/is/i  CntliCiirah. 

The  motto  he  adopted  has  long  been  famous — "Manners  makyth 
Man."  We  are  not  to  read  it  as  implying  reverence  for  mere  super- 
ficial graces.  "Manners"  must  have  meant  to  Wykcham  the  essence 
of  man's  heart  and  soul  as  shown  in  his  behavior,  and  as  distinguished 
from  the  accidents  of  birth  and  wealth.  His  motto  is  but  a  variant  of 
the  Scottish  poet's  "gold"  and  "guinea's  stamp." 

Wykeham  died  in  1404,  at  the  age  of  eight)-.  His  tomb  was  placed 
in  the  chantry  which  he  himself  had  constructed  on  the  spot  where,  as 
a  child,  he  had  loved  to  pray.  "  Length  of  days,"  quotes,  aptly,  one 
of  his  biographers.  "  was  in  liis  right  hand,  and  in  his  left  riches  and 
honor."  Yet,  it  is  pathetic  to  tell,  once  at  least  his  reputation  had 
been  assailed  by  jealous  tongues.  Not  even  a  Wykeham  could  escape 
calumny  of  the  sort  which  has  saddened  so  many  devoted  artists  from 
Phidias's  day  to  ours.  While  John  of  Gaunt  was  in  power  he  was  im- 
peached "on  eight  articles  of  maladministration" — accused  of  embez- 
zling the  king's  revenues,  taking  bribes,  and  so  forth.  Hut  he  was 
never  brought  to  trial.  Old  King  Edward  repented  him  ere  he  died, 
and  made  what  amends  he  could ;  his  successors  greatl)-  honored  the 
wise  and  faithful  prelate;  even  Henry  IV.,  the  son  of  his  old  enemy, 
John  of  Gaunt,  chose  to  be  married  in  Wykeham's  cathedral,  simply,  it 
seems,  because  it  was  Wykeham's ;  he  was  reverenced  by  the  people 
above  all  other  Englishmen,  and  posterity  sees  no  blot  on  his  shining 
record.  Its  glory — formed  in  equal  parts  of  lavish  charity,  noble  art, 
and  patient  wisdom — burns  with  double  lustre  against  the  background 
of  a  time  like  his.  It  was  the  time,  we  should  remember,  of  Chaucer, 
Gower,  and  Wjckliffe,  and  black  indeed  is  the  picture  they  have  left 
of  the  priests  and   nobles  whom  they  knew. 


VIII 

The  names  of  William  of  Wykeham  and  Alan  of  Walsingham,  when 
considered  as  the  names  of  famous  architects,  have  a  t\jMcal  and  his- 
toric as  well  as  a  personal  and  local  interest.  They  show  that,  down 
to  the  very  last  days  of  Gothic  art,  a  state  of  things  existed  in  Eng- 
land which  ceased  to  exist  in  France  when  this  art  was  born.  Look 
into  any  French  history  of  mediaeval  architecture,  and  you  will  find  it 
arranged  under  two  general  heads  :  L'architcclitre  roniane  and  LarcJii- 
tecturc  i^otJiiqitc,  or  ogivalc ;  and  in  English  books  you  find  these  same 
heads:  Romanesque  Architecture,  and  Gothic,  or  Pointed,  Architecture. 
But  in  English  we  never  use  the  term  "  monastic  architecture  "  as  a 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Winchester.    285 

synonym  for  Romanesque,  or  the  term  "national  architecture"  as  a 
synonym  for  Gothic,  or  speak  of  Gothic  architects  as  "lay  architects," 
while  in  French  we  constantly  find  rarc/tiicctnre  moiiacale  and  rarchi- 
(ccturc  nationalc  thus  used,  and  the  men  who  created  the  latter  called 
architectes  laiques.  All  the  main  points  of  unlikeness  in  the  mediaeval 
stories  of  France  and  England  lie  embalmed  in  these  verbal  differ- 
ences ;  for  architectural  history  is  the  record  in  stone  of  those  same 
facts  of  inheritance,  influence,  desire,  and  aptitude  which  stand  out  most 
prominently  upon  written  records. 

We  have  already  learned  that  the  old  Roman  centres  of  civilization 
survived  the  barbarian  invasions  which  wrecked  the  empire  in  Gaul, 
Avhile  they  were  almost  all  swept  away  in  Britain  when  the  heathen 
English  came;  that  there  was  no  such  break  in  the  life  of  the  French 
Church  as  occurred  in  the  life  of  the  English  Church  ;  and  that  through 
later  ages  municipal  organizations  played  a  part  in  the  development 
of  France  such  as  they  never  played  in  England.  But  in  the  general 
riot  and  darkness  which  marked  the  ruin  of  Charlemagne's  empire, 
and  threatened  once  more  to  extinguish  civilization,  the  cities  of  France 
were  eclipsed  for  a  time,  while  the  schools  which  Charlemagne  had 
founded  in  connection  with  ecclesiastical  establishments  survived  where 
these  establishments  lay  a  little  aside  from  the  great  currents  of  inter- 
necine strife,  and  became  the  only  nurseries  of  religion  and  knowledge. 
Then,  in  the  very  darkest  moment  of  all,  toward  the  end  of  the  tenth 
century,  when  the  world  was  waiting,  affrighted,  for  its  predicted  end 
in  the  fatal  year  1000,  the  new  monastery  of  Cluny  was  founded,  and 
all  through  the  eleventh  century  its  great  hearthstone  of  intellectual 
life  flamed  more  brightly  than  any  in  western  Europe.  In  the  monas- 
teries, and  nowhere  else,  were  now  libraries  and  schools,  workshops 
of  art  and  laboratories  of  science ;  and  from  them,  and  especially  from 
Cluny,  went  forth  the  men  who,  as  the  land  began  to  calm  itself  a  lit- 
tle, taught  the  burghers  of  the  towns  and  built  their  churches  for  them. 
So  the  architecture  of  this  period,  the  Romanesque  period,  is  rightly 
called  rarchitcciure  monacale,  as  developed  and  exclusively  practised 
by  the  monks. 

But  gradually,  thanks  to  the  efforts  of  these  monks,  intellectual  life 
began  to  awaken  in  the  towns.  It  quickly  meant  a  passionate  protest 
against  the  iron  hand  of  feudalism,  a  passionate  desire  for  liberty ;  and 
amid  a  people  with  Roman  traditions  this  desire  naturally  expressed 
itself  in  attempts  to  secure  a  measure  of  civic  autonomy.  Feudalism 
bore  less  heavily  upon  England.      There  the  great  nobles  were  not 


286 


Efiglisli  CntJiCiimh. 


so  powerful  that  the  king  was  merely  the  greatest  among  many  who 
defied  his  authority ;  there  they  did  not  stand  so  thickly  between  the 
people  and  the  king  that  local  matters  seemed  all  in  all  and  national 
consciousness  scarcely  existed.  The  men  who  faced  King  John  wanted 
to  be  free  Englishmen;  their  local  affairs  were  not  brought  into  prom- 
inence ;  what  they  accomplished  was  done  for  the  kingdom  at  large ; 
and  barons  as  well  as  bishops  were  their  natural  leaders.      But  the 


A  GATEWAY  IN  THE  CLOSE. 


"burghers  of  France  faced,  not  the  king,  but  their  local  scigjtcurs,  and 
what  they  wanted  w-as  to  be  citizens  of  self-regulating  communes. 
There  was  a  great  barrier  to  be  broken  down  in  F"rance  before  king 
and  people  could  help  each  other,  or  even  oppose  each  other;  and  this 
barrier  was  formed  of  the  nobles,  who  oppressed  the  people  on  the  one 
hand  and  defied  the  king  on  the  other.  The  story  of  this  period  in  all 
the  land  which  we  now  call  France  is  extremely  interesting  but  ex- 
tremely complicated.  Four  contestants  are  in  the  field:  the  burgher, 
the  noble,  the  churchman,  and  the  king;  and  they  perpetually  appear 
in  new  combinations,  in  a  veritable  kaleidoscope  of  changing  alliances 
and  resistances.  But,  in  general,  the  burgher,  the  churchman,  and  the 
king  each  felt  that  the  noble  was  his  most  dangerous  foe ;  as  a  rule, 
the  king  favored  or  professed  to  favor  the  commune,  at  least  until  he 


Cathedml  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Winchester.    287 

thought  it  was  getting  too  powerful  in  its  turn;  and  unless  the  bishop's 
temporal  power  obscured  his  sense  of  ecclesiastic  duty,  he  was  the 
friend  of  his  flock.  We  can  see  to-day  that  king,  churchman,  and 
burgher  were  all  fighting  together  for  the  great  eventual  result — a 
united  nation  relieved  from  the  bonds  of  feudal  and  ecclesiastical  tyr- 
anny, and  from  the  curse  of  local  wars.  But  at  the  time  it  must  have 
seemed  indeed  a  welter  of  conflicting  interests;  and  of  course  it  was 
interests,  not  true  sympathies,  that  brought  about  temporary  alliances, 
now  of  one  sort  and  now  of  another.  For  example,  as  the  monasteries 
were  locally  dissevered  from  the  seats  of  episcopal  authority,  so  they 
sought  to  free  themselves  from  episcopal  rule;  increasing  in  power 
and  wealth,  worldliness  and  ambition,  they  tried  more  and  more  for 
the  independence  which  would  mean  no  over-lord  but  the  pope  him- 
self; and  thus,  to  strengthen  his  arm  against  this  enemy  within  the 
Church,  the  bishop  was  forced  to  labor  for  the  burgher's  advantage. 

Meanwhile  there  were  towns,  of  course,  in  England,  and  growing 
local  interests,  and  local  oppressions  and  resistances ;  and  gradually 
the  townsmen  claimed  and  won  many  new  rights  and  privileges.  But 
these  were  not  usually  political ;  municipal  matters  were  not  bound 
up  with  broad  national  concerns  as  they  were  in  France ;  and  so,  while 
the  French  burgher  in  his  greater  need  used  ducats  and  arms  together, 
the  Englishman  could  conquer  with  peaceful  ducats  alone. 

Now  let  us  see  how  these  social  facts  expressed  themselves  in  art. 

In  England  the  cathedral  chapter  was  often  monastic,  and  even 
when  it  was  not  it  had  an  almost  monastic  size,  dignity,  and  individu- 
ality. But  in  France,  although  the  monastery  might  lie  close  to  the 
town,  it  had  no  concern  with  the  cathedral  which  stood  in  the  heart 
of  the  town,  and  was  the  core  of  its  life,  the  focus  of  its  interests,  the 
property  of  its  citizens,  and,  as  the  new  order  of  things  advanced,  the 
work  of  their  hands  and  the  shrine  of  their  liberties. 

No  great  municipal  halls  existed  in  those  days,  and  men  could  not 
remember  them,  so  wholly  had  architecture  become  the  servant  of  the 
Church.  Moreover,  great  popular  assemblages  held  indoors  or  out  of 
doors,  wherever  the  people  might  think  best,  were  unknown  even  to 
tradition:  the  noble  institution  of  the  folkmoot  was  an  inheritance  of 
purely  Germanic  peoples  only.  So  when  the  need  for  large  meeting- 
places  arose  in  a  French  town,  it  wedded  itself  to  the  idea  of  the  old 
architectural  centre  of  the  town;  and  the  cathedral  became  not  merely 
the  symbol  but  the  actual  fosterer  of  civic  as  well  as  of  religious  life. 

Meanwhile,  with  the  general  development  of  knowledge  and  intelli- 


288  Eiig/is/i  Cathedrals. 

gence,  architecture  began  to  bestir  itself  for  a  new  departure.  The  old 
Romanesque  scheme,  developed  and  practised  by  the  monks,  was  put- 
ting forth  new  buds,  and  laymen's  hands  were  to  unfold  them.  The 
earliest  buildings  in  which  we  find  Gothic  elements  were  built  by  eccle- 
siastics, like  the  famous  church  at  St.  Denis  whose  architect  was  the 
Abbe  Suger.  But  the  people  soon  learned  all  that  the  Church  knew  of 
science  and  art ;  their  minds  were  more  alert  and  plastic  than  the 
monkish  mind;  their  hands  were  not  cramped  by  tradition;  their  spirit 
was  fresh  and  vigorous;  the  new  and  larger  churches  which  they  wanted 
appealed  to  all  that  was  strongest  and  best  in  their  natures  and  not  to 
religious  zeal  alone;  and  so,  with  a  mighty  impulse,  they  took  control 
of  all  the  arts,  and  an  architecture  which  may  truly  be  called  national 
passed,  in  the  brief  space  of  fifty  years,  from  its  embryonic  to  its  per- 
fect state.  Of  course  the  bishop  and  the  Church  at  large  were  not 
ignored ;  but  while  the  bishop  permitted  and,  perhaps,  directed  the 
building  of  the  cathedral,  a  layman  was  its  architect,  guilds  of  lay 
carpenters  and  masons  raised  its  walls,  guilds  of  lay  sculptors,  painters, 
and  glass-makers  adorned  them,  and  the  people  chiefly  paid  the  cost, 
and  often  —  men,  women,  and  children  together — worked  with  passion- 
ate enthusiasm  upon  the  structure  which  was  at  once  the  temple  of 
their  faith,  the  sign  of  their  city's  greatness,  and  the  hearthstone  of  their 
liberties.  Romanesque  art  —  monkish  art  —  was  dead;  Gothic  art  — 
national  art,  the  architecture  of  laymen  —  had  taken  its  place. 

Thus  liberty  and  architecture  drew  a  fresh  breath  of  life  together 
and  developed  hand  in  hand.  And  when  feudalism  followed  monastic 
architecture  to  the  grave, —  when  national  unity  and  local  loyalty 
were  finally  achieved, —  art  had  its  splendid  share  in  the  triumph. 
Gradually,  as  the  kingly  power  extended  through  the  provinces  ruled 
by  rival  princes  and  mighty  vassals,  and  as  the  coimmuics,  measurably 
content,  ceased  from  local  strife,  cathedrals  were  built  at  the  king's 
command,  and  provincial  manners  of  building,  so  strongly  marked  in 
the  Romanesque  period,  gave  way  to  the  style  which  had  been  born 
and  perfected  in  the  old  domaiiie  royal.  Cathedrals  which,  in  the  strict 
architectural  sense,  are  French  cathedrals  arose  in  all  parts  of  what  is 
France  to-day,  planted,  as  a  Frenchman  has  said,  like  royal  standards 
of  victory  in  every  great  annexed  town.  But,  as  Gothic  architecture 
had  been  developed  by  the  communes,  so  it  was  the  help  of  the  com- 
viunes  which  had  enabled  the  king  to  triumph  ;  and  thus  the  great 
churches  which  we  see  in  places  as  far  from  Paris  as  Coutances,  Bor- 
deaux, Clermont-Ferrand,  Narbonne,  and  Limoges,  were  standards  of 


CatJiedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Winchester.    289 

the  peojale  as  well  as  of  the  king,  trophies  of  the  popular  struggle  for 
freedom  no  less  than  of  the  royal  struggle  for  power,  proofs  of  the 
achievement  both  of  national  union  and  of  local  liberties.  Truly,  he 
who  reads  this  chapter  of  architectural  history  with  care  reads  the  life- 
history  of  the  people  who  wrote  it. 

As  the  English  chapter  is  equally  significant,  it  naturally  has  a  very 
different  accent.  Where  cities  were  of  much  less  importance,  where 
local  matters  had  small  political  bearing,  and  where  episcopal  chairs 
were  set  in  the  midst  of  great  cloistered  houses,  the  burgher  had  neither 
the  need  nor  the  chance  to  make  cathedral  buildino-  his  concern. 
Whatever  part  bishop  or  burgher  might  take  in  the  national  struggle, 
he  played  that  part  on  a  national  battle-field;  the  cathedral  stood  aside, 


^ 


IN   THE  CLOSE. 


built  by  its  clerical  owners,  and  serving  these  owners  first  and  the  peo- 
ple only  in  a  secondary  fashion.  Cathedral  priests  might  quarrel  with 
the  townsfolk,  but  the  townsfolk  did  not  question  ecclesiastical  supre- 
macy within  the  cathedral  itself,  as  did  the  burghers  of  Laon,  of 
Rheims,  and  of  many  another  French  cotnmtuie.  The  clergy  of  Eng- 
land owned  its  cathedrals  as  truly  as  those  great  abbey-churches  which 
contained  no  episcopal  scats.  Naturally,  the  people  must  have  taken 
a  pride  in  them,  and  may  have  helped  a  little  to  build  them.    But  their 


290 


Ruglish  Cathedrals. 


interest  must  have  been  of  a  simply  religious  sort,  and  I  cannot  find 
that  it  ever  approached  that  frenzy  of  enthusiasm  which  is  shown  by 
the  oft-told  story  of  the  building  of  the  cathedral  of  Chartres.  The 
fact  seems  to  be  that,  down  to  the  very  latest  mediaeval  days,  the 
bishop,  the  abbot  or  prior,  and  the  "house"  practically  bore  the  cost 
of  their  church;  the  enterprise  was  theirs  and  the  glory  was  theirs; 
and  from  their  own  ranks  they  could  tlraw  the  executives  wliom  they 
required.     Of  course  there  were  secular  guilds  in  England  too,  and 


THE  LONG   WALK    IN   SUMMER. 


there  must  have  been  some  lay  architects.  But  English  historians  of 
the  art  take  no  notice  of  these  guilds,  so  prominently  described  by 
French  historians,  and  attempt  to  draw  no  line  between  an  art  of 
churchmen  and  an  art  of  laymen;  and  the  guild  of  masons  makes  a 
very  small  showing  even  in  general  accounts  of  English  trade-corpora- 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul — Winchester.    291 

tions,  while  we  know  what  the  term  "freemasons"  meant  upon  the 
Continent.  And,  again,  we  have  a  long-extending  if  scanty  list,  not 
ending  even  with  Walsingham  and  Wykeham,  of  English  Gothic  archi- 
tects who  were  certainly  ecclesiastics,  and  no  list  of  identified  laymen 
to  set  against  it ;  while  in  France  clerical  names  cease  entirely  to  appear 
after  the  dawning  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Even  William  of  Sens, 
who,  at  a  still  earlier  day,  brought  the  infant  Gothic  style  to  Canter- 
bury, came  without  frock  or  tonsure  from  the  building  of  the  cathedral 
in  his  native  town. 

Perhaps  we  should  seek  partly  in  these  facts  for  an  explanation  of 
many  things  which  we  have  noted  as  distinguishing  English  Gothic 
from  French — the  slowness  of  its  development,  its  lingering  attach- 
ment for  Romanesque  precedents,  its  timidity  in  construction,  its  lack 
of  perfect  logic  and  imaginative  power,  its  frequent  lapses  into  eccen- 
tricity of  effort.  Church  establishments  were  the  only  possible  nurses 
of  science  and  art  in  early  mediaeval  years.  But  as  the  world  outgrew 
the  swaddling-bands  of  the  Church  in  other  directions,  they  may  well 
have  pressed  with  hurtful  force  on  art.  The  ecclesiastic  who  was  an 
architect  could  not,  like  his  lay  compeer,  be  that  and  nothing  more ; 
he  could  not,  with  the  same  devotion,  be  a  member  of  a  well -taught, 
strictly  organized  profession ;  he  could  not  travel  so  widely,  learn  and 
practise  so  steadily  and  variously ;  nor  could  he  train  up  his  own  chil- 
dren to  follow  in  his  path  and  develop  his  ideas  as  we  know  that 
certain  great  French  architects  did.  In  later  mediaeval  days  the  secu- 
lar guild  was  a  much  better  nurse  of  art  than  the  clerical  house,  and 
so,  perhaps,  we  should  lay  a  part  of  the  deficiencies  which  we  find  in 
English  Gothic,  not  to  the  fact  that  it  was  developed  by  Englishmen, 
but  to  the  fact  that  it  was  developed  by  churchmen.  Perhaps  English 
Gothic  was  not  as  great  as  French  Gothic,  partly  because  it  was  not 
in  the  same  true  sense  a  national  art. 


IX 

In  an  elbow  of  the  High  street  of  Winchester  stands  the  City  Cross, 
an  elaborate  work  of  the  fifteenth  century.  F"ew  of  its  original  features 
remain,  nor  are  the  restorations  very  satisfying ;  yet  it  proudly  takes 
the  eye  from  a  considerable  distance  while  the  adjacent  entrance  to 
the  cathedral  close  might  easily  be  overlooked,  being  onl^^  a  dusky 
passage  underneath  the  quaint  and  crowding  shops.  From  this  en- 
trance the  Long  Walk  —  not  very  long,  but  beautifully  shaded  by  elms 


292  Eiig/is/i  Catlicihah. 

and  lindens — leads  to  the  western  door  across  the  ancient  burial- 
ground.  Here,  when  mir  |)ictures  were  drawn  in  1SS5,  old  head- 
stones and  unniown  grass  mingled  in  a  disarray  which  had  a  peaceful 
old-time  flavor,  not  at  all  suggestive  of  undue  neglect.  Now,  I  am 
told,  most  of  the  stones  have  been  removed,  and  the  spot  has  been 
tidied  and  planted  with  flowering  shrubs.  1  can  hardly  fancy  the 
change  an  improvement,  under  the  sluulow  of  these  hoary  ecclesiastic 
walls. 

This  west  front  shows  us  the  last  media-val  type  of  fa^-ade  wliich  we 
shall  hnd  in  Knglantl.  it  is  a  more  characteristically  English  type 
than  any  other,  for  while  high  sham  western  walls  are  sometimes  found 
in  Germany,  recalling  in  some  sort  such  fa9ades  as  Lincoln's  and 
Salisbury's,  out  of  England  there  is  nothing  at  all  like  a  Perpendicular 
front,  either  in  design  or  in  treatment.  Here  the  architect  deliberately 
abandoned  all  thought  of  a  facade  as  the  word  was  everywhere  under- 
stood in  Romanesque  times,  and  almost  everywhere  in  Gothic  times. 
Confessing  more  frankly  than  .my  of  his  predecessors  the  dominant 
importance  of  the  central  lower  in  the  English  composition,  he  kept 
his  west  end  low  and  perfectly  truthful,  discarding  all  memory  of  its 
towers,  and  giving  it  little  more  importance  than  he  might  have  given 
to  a  transept-enil.  Where  a  church  faces  on  a  city  square,  stretching 
out  its  long  western  limb  with  doors  which  evidently  serve  as  the  main 
entrances,  an  English  Perpendicular  front  would  certainly  seem  in- 
appropriately modest.  Hut  as  Winchester  stands,  facing  only  its  ver- 
dant close  and  diagonally  approached  from  the  town,  the  lack  of  a 
nobler  western  front  is  less  tlisturbing.  Perhaps,  indeed,  we  may  feel 
that  a  more  conspicuous  front  would  be  distinctly  unfortunate,  as  out 
of  harmony  with  site  and  surroundings.  We  may  remember  that 
Salisbury's  seems  useless,  and  would  seem  so  even  were  it  better  in 
design,  owing  to  the  fact  that  it  faces  ujjon  nothing  in  particular.  And 
then  —  remembering,  too,  the  dominance  of  the  central  tower  —  we 
may  conclude  that  in  the  most  typically  English  situations  the  most 
typically  English  type  of  front  was  the  best  that  could  have  been  de- 
vised. It  was  certainly  the  most  logical,  and  to  be  logical  is  the  first 
and  most  important  step  toward  being  architecturally  right. 

The  burial-ground  extends  all  along  the  northern  side  of  the  church 
until  we  pass  the  transept;  l)ut  narrow  streets  and  houses  then  press 
about  its  eastern  limb,  while  the  southern  side  of  the  choir  overlooks 
the  high-walled  gardens  of  the  canons'  homes.  From  one  of  these 
gardens  the  finest  near  view  f)f  the  churrli   ina\-  be  had.      Here  the 


CatJiedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  —  PVinchester.    293 

varied  altitudes  of  presbytery,  retrochoir,  and  Lady-chapel  may  be 
clearly  appreciated,  buildiny  themselves  up,  with  wide,  lightly  traceried 
windows,  behind  the  branching  cedars  of  Lebanon.  The  presbytery 
window  splendidly  dominates  the  group,  and  if  there  were  only  a  tower 
such  as  we  have   seen   at  Canterbury  and  shall  see  again   at   Glou- 


THE  WEST  FRONT. 


cester — a   superb  construction    of  Perpendicular  design — the  picture 
would  be  unsurpassed  in  England. 

Of  course,  the  canons'  houses  standing  as  they  do,  one  cannot  make 
the  circuit  of  the  church  without  trespassing  on  private  grounds.  To 
see  the  southern  side  of  the  nave,  we  must  retrace  our  steps  anci  ap- 
proach it  from  the  west.  Here  once  lay  the  cloisters  and  other  monas- 
tic buildings,  with  Wykeham's  beautiful  chapter-house  opposite  the 
transept-end.  They  were  almost  totally  destroyed  by  Bishop  Home 
in  1363,  I)Ut  a  few  Norman  arches  still  remain  near  the  site  of  the 
chapter-house,  and  an  Karly  English  entrance  which  once  admitted  to 
the  dormitory.  The  prior's  house  is  to-day  the  deanery  (shown  in 
the  tail-piece  of  this  chapter),  and  it  keeps  its  porch  with  three  graceful 
10* 


?94 


English  Cathedmls. 


arches,  and  its  hall  —  with  an  admirable  roof  and  windows  —  now 
divided  into  smaller  rooms.  At  a  little  distance  to  the  southward 
stands  a  large,  low,  half-timbered  structure  of  the  Decorated  period, 
now  the  dean's  stable,  but  once,  most  likely,  the  hall  where  monkish 
hospitality  lodged  its  humbler  guests.  The  whole  precinct  is  ver- 
durous, picturesque,  and  charming.  Here,  as  in  many  similar  places, 
English  Protestantism  has  so  lovingly  disguised  its  depredations  that 
we  half  foreive  it   for  the  sins  of  its  fanatical   and  covetous  youth. 


.«»,.- 


i 


m^  i 


^ 


^ 


'^Wis 


,  ^^, 


\\'fV>. 


:i^. 


.-^ 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  FRO.M  THE  SOUTHEAST. 


But  if  we  now  visit,  in  the  southward  quarter  of  the  town,  Wykeham's 
famous  school,  and  then  return  along  the  pretty  banks  of  the  Itchen, 
haunted  by  memories  of  the  prince  of  anglers,  we  find  ourselves  all 
at  once  in  a  spot  whose  beauty  makes  even  the  cathedral  close  seem 
commonplace.  Here,  protected  like  a  garden  by  ponderous  walls,  stand 
great  masses  of  ruin  thickly  overgrown  with  ivy  and  "bosomed  high 
in  tufted  trees" — the  ruins  of  Wolvesey,  the  episcopal  palace  founded 
by  Henry  of  Blois,  where  many  regal  bishops  lived  and  many  royal 
guests  were  entertained.  Cromw^ell  besieged  the  city  in  1645,  and 
when  it  surrendered  this  palace  was  pulled  down.      In  the  second  half 


CatJiedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  —  IVinchester.    295 

of  the  seventeenth  century  Bishop  Morley  founded,  close  at  hand,  an- 
other palace,  which  was  finished  by  Bishop  Trelawney  about  the  year 
I  7 10.  It  is  a  pleasant  but  not  imposing  residence,  and  is  no  longer 
occupied  by  the  bishop. 


The  days  of  the  saints  had  long  gone  by  when  William  of  Wykeham 
was  born,  yet  the  Church  need  not  hesitate  to  place  his  figure  beside  a 
Cuthbert  or  a  Chad.  For  the  new  needs  of  his  day,  in  the  new  temper 
of  a  more  comple.x  society,  he  too  worked  his  best  toward  the  enlight- 
enment of  man.  And  his  virtues  are  strongly  emphasized  by  the  his- 
tory of  his  successor.  Truly,  Cardinal  Beaufort  was  not  the  monster 
of  wickedness,  going  impenitent  to  sure  damnation,  whom  Shakspere 
has  portrayed.  Yet  he  was  typically  a  churchman  of  his  time  and  a 
statesman  of  his  time,  and  this  means  something  very  different  from 
a  Wykeham.  But  a  second  Wykeham,  almost,  followed  in  Bishop 
Waynflete,  who  in  his  youth  was  first  a  pupil  and  then  head-master  at 
Winchester  school.  He  too  was  erudite  and  pious,  and  a  noteworthy 
builder  and  patron  of  learning.  His  chief  monument  is  Magdalen  Col- 
lege at  O.xford  —  and  even  Wykeham's  New  College  was  not  built  or 
endowed  more  splendidly.  Fox  was  bishop  in  the  time  of  Henry  VTI., 
and  was  godfather  to  Henry  VIII.  He  was  Cardinal  Wolsey's  first 
patron  at  court,  and  Wolsey  succeeded  him  at  Winchester,  holding  the 
see  for  a  year  before  his  death  in  conjunction  with  the  archbishopric  of 
York.  Then  came  Stephen  Gardiner,  ot  whom  we  have  already  heard. 
A  firm  friend  of  Wolsey  and  then  of  Henry  VIII.,  he  was  imprisoned  in 
the  Tower  of  London  while  young  Edward  reigned,  but  was  exalted  by 
Mary  to  be  her  right  hand  in  Church  and  State.  He  was  called  "the 
hammer  of  heretics,"  and  Fuller  writes  that  "his  malice  was  like  what 
is  commonly  said  of  white  powder,  which  surely  discharged  the  bullet 
yet  made  no  report,  being  secret  in  all  his  acts  of  cruelty."  Many  are 
the  stories,  doubtless  largely  false,  which  record  his  bitter  hatred  of  the 
Reformers;  yet  there  are  some  voices  to  declare  that,  at  least  in  his  lat- 
ter days,  he  was  "half  a  Protestant  at  heart."  It  was  in  the  time  of 
Elizabeth  that  Bishop  Hornc  pulled  down  the  monastic  buildings — 
more  through  cupidity,  I  may  explain,  than  through  religious  zeal. 
Milton  has  embalmed  the  virtues  of  Bishop  Andrewes,  a  famous 
preacher,  who  ruled  while  James  I.  was  king  and  helped  translate  his 
Bible.  Brian  Duppa  was  a  friend  of  Charles  I.,  who  m.ade  him  Bishop 
of  Salisbury,  and  was  translated  to  Winchester  at  the   Restoration. 


296 


English  Cathccimls. 


Geor>;c  Murk)-  follow  cd  him, —  anolhcr  devoted  triend  of  the  unhappy 
Charles,  who,  while  the  I'uritans  prevailed,  had  ministered  to  the 
royalist  exiles  in  Belgium  I"'ew  sees  have  had,  in  Protestant  times,  so 
many  distinguished  prelates  as  Winchester.  Even  those  who  were  not 
politically  conspicuous  tilled,  as  a  rule,  the  field  of  literature  with  some 


;V  0? ! ; 


?  mi 


THE  LONG   WALK   IN    WINTER. 


success,  as  witness  Bishop  Hoadlc)-,  who  started  the  "Bangorian  con- 
troversy "  and  whose  pompous  rhetoric  was  ridiculed  by  Pope : 

Swift  for  closer  style, 

But  Hoadley  for  a  period  of  a  mile. 


And  the  recent  name  of  Samuel  Wilberforce  adds  another  star  to  those 
which  were  not  only  bright  but  beneficent  in  their  brightness. 

Not  even  the  Puritan  bore  as  heavily  on  Winchester  as  the  earlier 
Reformer  who  called  himself  a  churchman  still.  Xo  cathedral  in  the 
kingdom  was  more  richly  furnished.  We  would  give  much  to  see  it 
to-day  with  all  its  glass  and  carving  and  color  intact,  and  with  the 


Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul —  Winchester.    297 

gifts  of  Egbert,  Emma,  and  Canute  beginning  an  endless  list  of  sump- 
tuous works  of  art  bestowed,  during  seven  hundred  years,  by  royal 
visitor  and  lordly  prelate  and  a  host  of  pilgrims  to  St.  Swithun's 
shrine.  But  in  the  time  of  Edward  VI.  the  church  was  systemati- 
cally despoiled.  Many  treasures  vanished  in  the  smoke  of  the  melting- 
pot,  where  everything  fusible  was  cast  for  the  mere  value  of  its  metal, 
and  many  others  were  hewn  and  hacked  to  bits.  Then  came  Bishop 
Home,  pulling  down  the  monastic  buildings  and  selling  the  lead  from 
the  cathedral  roofs.  And  then  came  the  soldiers  of  the  Common- 
wealth, bribed  to  spare  the  town  of  Winchester  by  getting  free  play 
in  the  cathedral.  In  they  marched,  horse  and  foot  together,  with 
smoking  muskets,  sounding  drums,  and  flaring  flags;  and,  after  break- 
ing the  tombs  and  pelting  the  glass  with  the  bones  of  the  saints,  out 
they  marched  again  to  parade  the  streets  in  the  sacred  vestments,  and 
to  burn  the  altar-table  in  an  ale-house.  Waller  was  their  commander; 
he  had  once  been  a  boy  at  Wykeham's  school,  and  he  stopped  the 
devastation  at  last,  and  perhaps  protected  the  effigy  of  his  far-off  bene- 
factor while  so  many  others  were  beheaded  and  spat  upon.  Modern 
devotion  has  done  what  it  could  to  hide  the  myriad  scars  which  dis- 
grace the  memorv  of  the  Angrlican  and  the  Puritan  alike.  But  the  art 
of  to-day  is  not  the  art  of  Old  England,  nor  does  the  Church  of  to-day 
sanction  the  magnificence  of  Rome.  Protestantism  can  never  redeem 
its  ravages  inside  a  cathedral,  as  outside  it  may,  with  the  help  of 
Mother  Nature's  pacifying  touch. 


^J^^tm 


fife. 


Chapter  XI 


THE    CATHEDRAL    Ol"    ST.    PETER 


(iLOUCE.STER 


T  Gloucester,  for  the  first  time  on  our  cathedral 
journey,  we  see  masts  and  sails;  and  if  we  pur- 
sued our  course  through  every  ancient  epis- 
copal town  in  England,  we  should  nowhere  feel 
closer  to  lur  watery  wall.  Chichester  stands 
very  near  the  sea,  and  Norwich  not  far  away 
from  it ;  but  both  are  out  of  sight  of  its  waves, 
while  great  vessels  come  up  the  estuary  of  the 
Severn  to  Gloucester,  and  lie  in  its  capacious  pools  beneath  the  shadow 
of  the  cathedral  tower.  Here  we  meet  sailors  in  the  streets,  smell  tar, 
and  fancy  we  smell  salt;  yet  a  pastoral  and  truly  English  country  lies 
all  around  the  town.  "A  fruitful  and  a  pleasant  Country,"  old  Peter 
Heylyn  calls  it,  "being  honoured  with  a  full  course  of  the  River  of 
Severn,  and  the  original  or  fountain  of  the  River  of  Thames.  That 
part  thereof  which  is  beyond  the  Severn  is  overspread  with  Woods ; 
all  which  included  in  one  name,  made  the  Forest  of  Dean.  That  part 
which  butteth  upon  O.xfordshire  is  swelled  up  with  hills,  callctl  the 
Cotswold  hills;  but  these  even  covered,  as  it  were,  with  Slu-ep,  which 
yields  a  Wool  of  notable  fineness,  hardly  inferior  to  the  best  of  Eng- 
land. Between  those  two  is  seated  a  most  fruitful  vale,  fruitful  to  ad- 
miration of  all  kinds  of  grain,  and  heretofore  of  \'ines  and  Vineyards; 
the  want  of  which  is  now  supplied  by  a  drink  made  of  Apples,  called 
Sider,  which  here  the\-  make  in  crreat  abundance.  In  this  so  fruitful 
Vale  stands  the  City  of  Gloucester.  ...  A  fine  and  neat  city  I  assure 
you  'tis,  daintily  seated  on  the  Severn  ;  with  a  large  Key  or  Wharf  on 
the  banks  thereof  very  commodious  to  the  Merchandise  and  Trade  of 
the  place.  The  streets,"  he  adds,  "are  generally  fair,  and  the  Town 
well  built,"  and  his  words  are  still  true  after  the  lapse  of  two  hundred 
years.     Gloucester  to-day  is  quaint  but  homelike  and  lively,  the  old  and 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester. 


299 


the  modern  existing  side  by  side  in  a  union  as  different  from  the  dead 
yesterday-mood  of  many  Continental  cities  as  from  the  crude  to-day 
of  America.  Here  we  feel  the  real  character  of  England  in  a  many- 
sided  way ;  and  the  cathedral  is  typically  English  in  general  effect, 
although  distinctly  individual  in  almost  all  its  parts.  Nearly  the  whole 
of  it  dates  from  the  Norman  and  Perpendicular  periods;  but  just  such 
Norman  work  is  confined  to  this  southwestern  district,  while  the  way 
in  which  the  Perpendicular  additions  were  made  has  no  parallel  at  all.^ 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  THE  DOCKS. 


The  first  ecclesiastical  foundation  at  Gloucester  of  which  we  have 
certain  knowledge  was  a  nunnery  established  in  the  year  68 1.  In  767 
it  perished  in  the  confusion  of  internecine  strife.      In  823   a  house  for 


1  Excellent  accounts  of  this  church,  written  by  Professor  Freeman,  Mr.  T.  Gambier  Parry,  ami 
others,  are  collected  in  Volume  I  of  the  "  Records  of  Gloucester  Cathedral." 


300  English  Catlicdyals. 

secular  priests  succeeded  il.  In  1022  Benedictine  monks  replaced  the 
priests;  and  in  1058  the  abbey  was  removeil  10  another  site,  and  its 
new  church  was  built  where  the  cathedral  stands  to-day.  In  1089  the 
foundations  of  still  another  church  were  laid  by  the  first  Norman  abbot, 
Serlo,  and  a  consecration  followed  in  1 100.  Such  a  ceremony  often 
implied  no  more  than  that  the  choir  was  ready  for  occupation ;  but  in 
this  case  we  are  asked  to  believe  that  the  whole  church  had  been 
finished.  If  so,  an  Old  Enj^lish  church,  which  had  stood  for  thirty-one 
years  and  was  probably  as  fine  as  any  of  its  class, — for  Gloucester 
and  its  abbey  were  already  great  and  famous, — must  have  been  delib- 
erately pulled  down,  and  a  building  of  the  size  we  now  behold  must 
have  I)een  completed,  all  within  the  space  of  eleven  years.  The  fact 
seems  hardly  credible,  yet  historians  as  careful  as  Freeman  do  not 
doubt  it,  and  we  know  from  what  went  on  in  many  other  spots  how 
great  was  the  ambition  of  the  Normans  to  build  much  larger  churches 
than  they  found  in  Hngland,  and  how  splendid  was  their  energy  when 
once  they  got  to  work. 

Only  two  years  after  its  consecration  Serlo's  church  was  injured  by 
fire,  in  1122  again  and  more  severely,  and  very  often  in  later  years. 
But  the  roofs  and  clearstories  and  interior  fittings  must  have  chiefly 
suffered,  for  all  the  Norman  work  that  we  see  dates  from  Serlo's  time, 
or  at  latest  from  a  period  immediately  after  the  fire  of  1 122;  and  this 
work  stretches  almost  from  end  to  end  of  the  vast  main  fabric.  The 
Lady-chapel  is  a  Perpendicular  addition ;  the  east  end  has  been  re- 
modeled; the  western  front  and  the  two  adjacent  compartments  of  the 
nave  have  been  rebuilt;  in  certain  places  new  e.xterior  walls  and  win- 
dows have  been  inserted;  and  the  choir  and  transept  are  covered  with 
a  decorative  overlay  of  the  most  singular  and  interesting  kind.  But 
the  great  body  of  the  structure  below  the  clearstory  is  still  Norman  in 
all  its  constructional  parts. 

Gloucester,  like  Winchester,  Lincoln,  and  York,  was  a  fortified 
Roman  station.  Its  Latin  name  was  Glevum,  and  its  British  name 
had  been  Caer  Glou.  Osric  was  the  local  viceroy  under  Ethelred  of 
Mercia  when  the  nunnery  was  founded  in  681.  Archbishop  Theodore 
journeyed  from  Canterbury  to  its  dedication,  and  its  first  abbess  was 
of  royal  blood.  .After  the  time  of  Canute,  when  the  Benedictines  were 
introduced,  both  the  abbey  and  the  town  grew  and  flourished  gready. 
Durintr  the  reisrns  of  Edward  the  Confessor  and  William  the  Con- 
queror,  it  was  the  custom  for  the  king  to  "wear  his  crown"  at  each 
Easter  festival  at  Winchester,  at  each  Pentecost  at  Westminster,  but  at 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester. 


301 


1,1.1  lLLh:^l  hk.    tKiiM     lill.    >K^t.KN- 


each  Christmas-tide  at  Gloucester,  and  this  ceremony  impHed  the  hold- 
ing of  a  great  "gemot"  for  counsel  and  judgment.  The  reason  why 
Gloucester  was  thus  honored  is  not  hard  to  read  —  it  lay  near  the  con- 
fines of  the  two  great  earldoms  of  Wessex  and  Mercia,  and  also  near 
the  borders  of  the  ever-troublesome  Welsh.  The  Conqueror  protected 
it  with  a  great  castle,  and  placed  Serlo  over  St.  Peter's  Abbey  when 
the  English  abbot,  Wulfstan,  died  on  a  journey  to  the  Holy  Land. 
The  house  had  then  fallen  so  low  that  two  monks  and  eight  young 
novices  were  all  who  greeted  their  new  ruler;  and  Serlo  was  busy  col- 
lecting men  and  money  long  before  he  began  to  rebuild  his  church. 

It  was  at  one  of  the  Gloucester  gemots  that  the  taking  of  the  famous 
survey  called  Domesday  Book  was  ordered  by  the  Conqueror.  In 
1093  William  Rufus  lay  sick  at  Gloucester,  and  here  Malcolm  of  Scot- 
land was  called  to  his  bedside,  and  Anselm  was  reluctantly  appointed 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  at  once  received  his  consecration  in  the 


302  English  Cathainih. 

abbey-church.'  Here  Duke  Robert  of  Normandy,  the  eldest  son  of 
the  Conqueror,  was  buried,  and  his  tomb  may  still  be  seen.  Here,  in 
1216,  the  boy-kiny  Henry  111. —  Henry  ot  Winchester — was  crowned 
while  Westminster  and  his  birthplace  were  both  in  the  hands  of  foreign 
soldiers.  Here  Edward  II.  was  buried,  and  the  revenues  of  the  mon- 
astery were  enormously  swelled  by  the  fact.  All  through  the  middle 
ages,  in  short,  St.  Peter's  Abbey  flourished  with  a  mighty  growth, 
while  the  town  about  it  developed  as  commercial  enterprise  increased, 
and  was  constantly  the  stage  where  important  political  scenes  were 
played.  Yet,  like  the  other  Abbey  of  St.  Peter, — the  Golden  Borough, 
Peterborough,  in  its  far  eastern  shire, — this  great  establishment  was 
not  the  seat  of  a  bishop  until  the  sixteenth  centurj-.  Its  church  was 
one  of  the  largest  and  finest  in  the  land,  and  its  income  might  have 
made  bishops  envious ;  but  the  cathedral  title  was  not  given  until 
King  Henry  VIII.  suppressed  scores  of  monasteries  and  made  a  few 
new  bishoprics  in  their  stead.  Then  the  diocese  of  Gloucester  was 
cut  out  of  the  great  ancient  diocese  of  Worcester. 

After  there  were  prelates  at  Gloucester  only  a  single  name,  a  single 
incident,  attracts  attention.  The  second  bishop  was  John  Hooper, 
once  a  monk,  but  afterward  so  stern  a  Protestant  that  he  scrupled 
long  to  wear  the  episcopal  robes  when  they  were  offered  him  by  Ed- 
ward \'I.  A  year  after  his  appointment  the  parent  see  and  the  newer 
one  were  joined  for  a  time,  and  his  title  was  Bi.shop  of  Gloucester  and 
Worcester.  But  when  Mary  came  to  the  throne  Hooper  exchanged 
his  palaces  for  a  London  prison.  The  rest  of  his  story  is  well  enough 
known.  Here  at  Gloucester,  almost  within  the  precincts  of  his  own 
cathedral,  the  great  Protestant  bishop  was  burned  at  the  stake  in  1555. 
With  the  exception  of  this  name,  there  is  none,  1  think,  on  the  list  of 
Gloucester's  prelates  which  would  sound  familiar  in  American  ears, 
unless  it  be  the  name  of  William  Warburton,  who  ruled  from  1760  to 
1779,  and  whose  praises  Dr.  Johnson  wrote. 


II 

Gloucester  Cathedral  stands  a  little  aside  from  one  of  the  main 
thoroughfares  of  the  town.  Its  vast  body  is  hidden  by  houses,  and  we 
approach  it  through  a  short  street  which  shows  us  no  great  facade  or 
tower  or  transept-end,  but  only  a  part  of  the  nave  and  a  two-storied 

1  In  the  reign  of  William  Rufus,  says  Freeman,  "almost  everything  that  happened  at  all  somehow 
contrived  to  happen  at  Gloucester." 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester.  303 

porch.  This  porch  stands  toward  the  western  end  of  the  south  aisle, 
and  forms  the  main  entrance  to  the  church  ;  and,  like  the  porch  of 
Canterbury  Cathedral,  it  is  doubtless  a  successor  of  that  great  "  Suth- 
dure"  which  had  been  a  characteristic  feature  in  Old  English  churches. 
The  little  street  debouches  on  a  narrow  paved  court  with  bits  of  lawn 
about  it,  and  the  windows  of  cozy  homes  looking  out  upon  the  great 
pale-gray  carven   church.     To  right   and   left  the  close   extends,   not 


THE   SOUTH   PORCH. 


very  spacious  in  any  direction,  yet  wide  enough  and  shady  and  green 
enough  to  give  the  truly  English  cathedral  atmosphere.  Peace  and 
beauty  reign  —  we  can  hardly  believe  that  the  busiest  street  of  a  mod- 
ern town  lies  but  a  few  feet  away.  Glory  to  God  and  good  will  to 
man  seem  chanted  aloud  by  the  voices  of  nature  and  art.  Memories 
of  devotion,  repose,  and  brotherly  love,  we  fancy,  must  be  the  only  ones 
that  people   such  a  spot.      Yet   not  far  off,  just  beyond   the   college 


304  liiiirlisli  Cathedrals. 

green  upon  wliich  looks  the  west  Ironl  ol  ihc  church,  Bishop  Hooper 
was  sent  to  paradise  through  a  door  of  flame. 

The  south  porch  is  a  rich  little  Perpendicular  structure,  almost 
wholly  renewed  in  modern  times,  witli  a  windowed  vestibule  below 
and  a  chamber  above.  The  part  of  the  church  to  wiiich  it  belonj^s 
was  rebuilt  in  the  second  half  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Morwcnt,  wiio 
was  then  the  abbot,  seems  to  have  meant  to  ijuikl  the  tiuire  nave 
afresh  ;  and,  as  a  beginning,  he  pulled  down  the  western  front,  with 
its  two  flanking  towers  or  turrets,  and  the  two  adjacent  bays  of  the 
nave.  The  whole  oi  his  front  is  tilled,  in  the  central  alley  and  above  a 
low  stretch  ot  wall  in  which  is  a  small  west  door,  by  a  single  window 
rising  close  up  to  the  very  ceiling.  Its  traceries  show  that  tinal  stage 
of  Perpendicular  designing  when  curved  forms  were  almost  altogether 
lost.  It  is  di\ided  by  straight  uprights  and  cross-bars  into  successive 
series  of  tall  but  very  narrow  lights,  the  tiny  arched  tops  of  which 
scarcely  relieve  the  general  effect  of  stiff  rectangularity.  Even  in  the 
upper  part  of  tlie  window-head,  where  further  subdivision  was  needful, 
smaller  rectangles  are  used,  and  only  two  of  the  main  mullions  make 
an  awkward  attempt  at  curvature.  It  is  not  a  beautiful  window  so  far 
as  design  is  concerned,  but  its  size  makes  it  impressive  ;  and  it  must 
have  been  splendid  indeed  when  filled  with  ancient  glass  instead  of  its 
present  discords  of  im|)ure  and  glaring  tones. 

The  two  compartments  of  the  nave  which  Abbot  Morwent  built  do 
not  show  that  he  had  a  very  good  ideal,  or  even  a  very  clear  ideal,  of 
a  great  Perpendicular  church  in  mind.  The  height  is  divided  into 
three  independent  stories,  although  the  time  when  such  di\ision  was 
generally  practised  had  long  gone  by.  ^'et  there  is  no  triforium-ar- 
cade — nothing  but  a  wide  plain  strip  of  wall  between  the  pier-arcade 
and  the  clearstory,  defined  but  scarcely  ornamented  by  a  string-course 
above  and  below.  Moreover,  the  two  bays  are  not  alike.  The  west- 
erly one  is  much  wider  than  the  other,  and  its  pier-arch  is  a  good 
deal  taller;  and  thus  the  continuit)'  of  the  string-courses  is  broken, 
and  the  clearstory  windows  differ  in  size.  The  aisles  which  flank 
these  two  bays  are  likewise  Perpendicular  reconstructions;  but  when 
we  stand  in  this  part  of  the  church  and  turn  our  backs  upon  the 
window,  we  have  a  most  imposing  perspective  of  Norman  work 
before   us. 

On  each  side  are  seven  vast  circular  piers,  thirty  feet  in  height,  bear- 
ing semicircular  arches ;  above  these  is  a  very  low  triforium  with  four 
small  arches  in  each  bay,  grouped  in  pairs  under  wader  semicircles; 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  —  Gloucester.  305 

and  above  these  again  is  a  clearstory  which  was  once  considerably 
taller  than  it  is  to-day.  The  arrangement  is  entirely  different  from 
anything  we  have  seen  elsewhere.  Norman  builders,  I  have  often  said, 
usually  made  pier-arcade,  triforium,  and  clearstory  of  almost  equal 
height.  At  Norwich,  for  e.xample,  the  piers  measure  but  15  feet,  and 
the  whole  height  to  the  base  of  the  triforium  is  25  feet,  while  the  tri- 
forium itself  absorbs  24  feet  and  the  clearstory  25.  But  at  Gloucester, 
with  piers  of  30  feet,  the  base  of  the  triforium  is  40  feet  above  the  floor, 
while  its  own  height  is  only  10  feet,  and  the  clearstory  originally 
measured  24.  Yet,  despite  the  circular  piers,  the  design  of  Gloucester 
does  not  resemble  Durham's.  There  the  circular  pier-form  alternates 
with  the  rectangular ;  the  triforium,  though  not  as  high  as  at  Norwich, 
Ely,  and  Peterborough,  yet  maintains  its  typical  Norman  importance ; 
and  the  design  gains  unity  and  constructional  logic  through  the  pres- 
ence of  massive  vaulting-shafts,  rising  against  the  alternate  square 
piers  from  the  pavement  to  the  roof  But  what  we  see  at  Gloucester 
is  simply  a  great  colonnade,  so  all-important  in  the  general  effect  that 
the  upper  stories  almost  look  like  afterthoughts.  Only  in  this  south- 
western part  of  England  do  designs  like  this  occur.  Tewkesbury  Ab- 
bey Church,  which  stands  not  many  miles  away,  is  very  like  the  nave 
of  Gloucester  Cathedral. 

Of  course  the  expression  of  the  nave  was  much  finer  when  the  Nor- 
man clearstory  was  intact.  It  probably  had  a  group  ot  three  windows 
in  each  compartment,  under  an  including  arch  of  which  the  jambs  have 
been  suffered  to  remain  ;  and  the  ceiling  was  doubtless  wooden  and 
flat.  We  may  not  greatly  admire  the  effect  of  such  a  ceiling,  yet  it 
was  better  suited  to  a  Norman  nave  than  the  very  low-pitched  Gothic 
vaulting  at  Gloucester,  to  accommodate  which  the  clearstory  was  cut 
away.  Then,  too,  the  floor  once  lay  a  foot  below  its  present  level,  and 
this  addition  to  the  bases  of  the  piers  must  have  been  of  great  advan- 
tage. Nevertheless,  we  feel  that  the  nave  of  Gloucester  was  always  a 
stupendous  rather  than  an  excellent  piece  of  work.  There  is  wonder- 
ful beauty  at  Durham,  and  again,  of  a  different  sort,  in  the  great  Nor- 
man interiors  of  the  eastern  shires.  But  here  the  proportioning  is  such 
that  the  word  beauty  does  not  seem  appropriate.  The  piers  are  mag- 
nificent if  we  look  at  them  alone;  but  the  real  excellence  of  any  archi- 
tectural feature  lies  in  its  harmony  with  connected  features,  and  these 
piers  are  so  closely  set  that  their  arches  are  much  less  noble  than 
themselves.  It  will  be  seen  from  the  figures  I  have  given  that  at 
Gloucester,  as  at  Norwich,  the  capitals  of  the  piers  come  within  ten  feet 
20 


3o6 


English   C a  thai  rah. 


of  the  base  of  the  triforiuin.  This  means  that  the  arches  in  the  one 
case  are  no  taller  than  in  the  other,  and  that  they  arc  no  wider,  as  the 
width  of  a  semicircular  arch  is  strictly  dependent  upon  its  height. 
There  is  no  fault  to  find  with  the  ])roportions  of  the  Norwich  arcade, 
and  therefore  it  is  plain  that  at  Ciloucester,  where  the  height  of  the 
piers  is  doubled,  the  arches  must  seem  too  small.     A  wider  spacing  of 


THE  NAVK,  LOOKING  TOWAkU  THE  CHOIR. 


the  jjiers  would  ha\e  pc-rmilted  arches  of  a  span  sufficient  to  harmo- 
nize with  their  size;  but  the  height  i)f  the  arches  would,  of  course,  have 
been  propf)rtionately  increased;  and  what  would  then  have  become  of 
the  triforium,  which  even  now  is  so  very  low  ?  But  the  arcade  itself 
would  have  been  infinitely  finer.  As  it  stands  it  has  a  high-shouldered, 
awkward  look. 

All  the  paint  which  once  covered  these  massive  stones  has  perished, 
and  here  and  there  we  can  see  ruddy  spots  and  streakings  which  bear 
witness  to  the  fires  of  long  ago.  The  capitals  of  the  piers  are  very 
plainly  moulded,  but  the  string-courses  and  the  arch-mouldings  in  all 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter —  Gloucester.  T,oy 

the  stories  are  worked  with  characteristic  Norman  patterns.  The  vault- 
ing-shafts which  now  descend  above  eacli  pier  give  the  most  conspicu- 
ous touch  of  decoration,  but  these  are  later  additions  to  the  original 
scheme.  They  are  Early  English  features,  built,  with  the  ceiling  itself 
in  the  iirst  half  of  the  thirteenth  century.  Each  is  formed  as  two  super- 
imposed clusters  of  little  marble  columns  with  dainty  capitals,  and  the 
design  is  as  sensible  as  charming :  a  single  cluster  of  columns  resting 
on  the  triforium  string-course  would  have  had  too  stumpy  a  look,  yet 
a  single  series  of  longer  columns  would  have  ignored  the  presence 
of  the  string-course.  It  is  interesting,  also,  to  notice  in  some  places 
proof  of  a  rather  exceptional  desire  to  harmonize  the  new  details 
with  the  old.  The  string-courses  are  adorned  with  that  Norman  zig- 
zag or  chevron  pattern  which  had  long  gone  out  of  use  when  the  addi- 
tions were  made;  yet  on  the  bases  of  many  of  the  upper  groups  of  little 
columns  the  same  pattern  is  carefully  carried  along. 


Ill 

The  north  aisle  of  the  nave  is  still  in  its  original  condition  except  as 
regards  the  Perpendicular  traceries  which  have  been  inserted  in  the 
round-headed  ancient  windows.  But  in  the  south  aisle  we  find  more 
radical  alterations. 

Gloucester  Cathedral  was  not  exempt  from  the  disasters  which  came 
to  so  many  great  Norman  works  through  the  want  of  care  or  want  of 
knowledge  of  their  builders.  I  have  already  said  that  Abbot  Mor- 
went  rebuilt  the  facade  during  the  Perpendicular  period.  But  he  did 
not  find  the  old  Norman  facade  intact.  One  of  the  towers  or  turrets 
which  had  flanked  it  fell  about  seventy  years  after  it  was  finished. 
When  this  was  reconstructed,  so,  too,  was  its  mate  —  the  Early  English 
style  then  prevailing ;  and  it  was  this  composite  front,  half  Nor- 
man, half  Early  English,  that  Abbot  Morwent  destroyed.  Then, 
in  the  Decorated  period,  near  the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, the  outer  wall  of  the  south  aisle  of  the  nave  was  partly  renewed 
by  Abbot  Thokey ;  and,  although  I  cannot  find  the  fact  expressly 
stated,  a  threatened  collapse  must  have  been  his  incentive.  The 
inner  facing  of  the  walls,  and  the  half-piers  which  support  the  aisle- 
vaults,  are  Norman  still ;  but  the  outer  facing  and  the  vaults  them- 
selves are  Abbot  Thokey's  work,  and  likewise  the  windows  with 
their  Decorated  traceries.  Now,  as  seen  from  the  inside,  the  enor- 
mous half-piers  and  the  walls  are  eleven  inches  out  of  the  perpendic- 


3o8 


niig/is/i  Cathcdynls. 


ular — a  (.Inflection  wliicli  is  not  much  exati^jiferatc'd  in  the  [licturc  on 
this  page.  <  )n  the  outside,  however,  the  inc  lination  is  only  four 
inches.  Of  course  Abijot  Tliokey  built  his  [larl  of  tin-  wall  erect; 
and  tluis  four  inches  of  movement  may  be  laitl  to  the  hve  centuries 
and  a  half  which  have  elapsed  since   his   time,  and  seven   inches  to 


f< 


i^ 


V^. 


THE  SOUTH   AISLE  OF  THE  NAVE,  LOOKING  EAST  INTO  THE  TRANSEPT. 


the  two  centuries  which  had  stretched  between  Serlo's  labors 
and  his  own.  Seven  inches  of  movement  may  well  have  torn 
the  aisle-vaults  asunder  and  seemed  reason  enou>,di  for  strengthen- 
ing the  outer  walls.  Had  Thokey  been  inspired  by  a  mere  wish 
to    rebuild   without    actual    necessity,   he   would    hardly   have   left   so 


The  Cathedyal  of  St.  Peter —  Gloucester. 


509 


much  of  the  original  work  as  he  did.  Nor  can  we  lay  the  damage 
he  found  to  the  account  of  fire,  even  had  it  not  continued  after  his 
death;  —  it  must  have  been  caused  by  bad  foundations.' 


IHL    i\A\K,    ikii.M     IHh    NDKIH    Al.^Lt. 


1  In  a  report  of  a  lecture  on  Gloucester  Cathedral 
delivered  by  Professor  Willis,  the  "  Cientlenian's 
Magazine"  for  September,  1S60,  says:  "  He  admired 
the  ingenuity  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  but  whatever  may 
be  said  of  their  science  as  shown  in  their  masonry, 
he  believed  they  had  none.  They  were  perfectly 
practical  and  ingenious  men ;  they  worked  experi- 

.?o* 


mentally ;  if  their  buildings  were  strong  enough, 
they  stood ;  if  they  were  too  strong,  they  also  stood ; 
but  if  they  were  too  weak,  they  gave  way,  and  they 
put  props  and  built  the  next  stronger.  That  was 
their  science,  and  very  good  practical  science  it 
was;  but  in  many  cases  they  imperiled  their  work 
and  gave  trouble  to  future  restorers." 


JO 


Eng/is/i  Cathedrals. 


The  Norman  vaulting  still  remains  in  the  north  aisle,  and  by  com- 
parison we  see  that  Thokey  chose  a  considerably  lower  level  for  his. 
The  adornment  of  his  exterior  walls  and  his  windows  (one  of  which  is 
seen  in  the  distance  in  the  picture  on  page  309)  is  very  rich ;  the 
ball-flower  ornament,  which  was  characteristic  of  the  Decorated  period, 

was  seldom  so  lavishly 
applied.  It  is  a  pity  that 
all  these  lights  should  now 
be  filled  with  modern  glass, 
some  of  it  tolerable  but 
much  of  it  atrocious.  In 
the  north  aisle  are  many 
sepulchral  monuments, 
but  none  of  great  age  or 
interest.  But  at  the  east- 
ern end  of  the  south  aisle, 
with  its  head  against  one 
of  the  piers  of  the  great 
central  tower  which  he 
built,  is  the  shattered 
chantry-tomb  of  Abbot 
Seabroke,    who    died    in 

1457- 

The    ritual    choir    still 

projects,  in  the  old  Nor- 
man   fashion,   across    the 
intersection  of  nave  and 
transept,    and    its    screen 
fills    up    one    bay   of   the 
nave  itself      This  screen 
is  an  ugly  piece  of  mod- 
ern    work,     bearing     an 
uglier  organ  in  the  place 
once  given   to  the    Holy 
Rood. 
A  glance  at  the  ground-plan  of  Gloucester  shows  how  little  altera- 
tion it  has  undergone  since  Norman  days.     The  transept  still  has  a 
polygonal  chapel  opening  from  the  eastern  side  of  each  of  its  arms, 

1  The  internal  length  of  Gloucester  Cathedral  is  406  feet,  and  the  spread  of  its  transept  is  141  feet. 
The  chapter-house  is  72  feet  long  and  34  feet  wide. 


PLAN   OF  GLOUCESTER  CATHEDRAL! 
FROM  Murray's  "handbooks  to  the  cathedrals  op  England." 

A,  South  porch.  B,  Nave.  C,  Choir-screen.  D,  Choir.  E,  Presbyter)-. 
F,  South  arm  of  tmnsept  G.  Chapel.  H,  Choir-aisle.  K,  Apsidal 
chapcK.  L,  Lady-chnpel.  ^f,  North  arm  of  tran.sept.  N,  St.  Paul's 
chapel.  O,  Cloister.  P,  Chapter-house.  Q,  Abbot's  cloister.  R, 
Slype,  or  passage  to  cloister  i.  Abbot  Seabrokc's  chantr>'.  7,  Osric's 
monumenL  8,  Nionument  of  Edward  IL  10,  Duke  Robert's  monument. 
15,  Abbot's  door  to  cloister.  16,  Monks'  door  to  cloister.  17,  Lavatories. 
18,  Recess  for  towels. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter  —  Gloucester. 


311 


and  the  sweep  of  the  choir-aisle  is  still  intact,  with  two  of  the  three 
chapels  which  opened  out  of  it.  But,  as  I  have  said,  many  things  at 
Gloucester  are  peculiar,  and  among  them  is  the  plan  of  the  eastern 
limb.  The  ritual  choir  is  inclosed  by  high  solid  walls,  which  shut  off 
from  the  central  portion  of  the  church  not  only  the  transept-arms,  but 
also  the  adjoining  ends  of  the  nave-aisles.  These  ends  are  raised  by 
two  steps  above  the  general  level  of  the  nave,  and  thus  look  like  vesti- 


*^ 


ST.  P.\UL-S   CHAPEL,  NORTH   ARM   OF   TR.\NSEPT. 


bules  to  the  transept-arms.  Each  of  the  transept-arms  is  exception- 
ally short,  consisting  only  of  a  single  bay ;  and  thus  isolated,  with  its 
vestibule,  with  the  wall  cutting  it  off  from  the  crossing,  w'ith  the  apse- 
like little  chapel  in  its  eastern  face,  and  with  its  many  tombs  and 
sepulchral  slabs,  each  arm  looks  more  like  a  larger  chapel  than  like 
part  of  a  veritable  transept.  Moreover,  not  only  all  five  of  the  little 
chapels,  but  also  the  end  of  the  church  was  polygonal  in  shape,  and 
this  was  uncommon  in  Norman  cathedrals. 

But  when  we  turn  from  the  ground-plan  to  the  wall-design,  we  find 
the  east  limb  of  Gloucester  much  more  normal  than  the  nave.     The 


0 


Rnglisli  Catliciimls. 


piers  are  again  of  a  circular  form,  but  they  arc  so  much  lower  that 
the  proportioning  of  the  stories  is  about  the  same  as  it  is  in  the  great 
Norman  churches  of  eastern  England.  Of  course,  a  discrepancy  of 
this  kind  between  nave  and  choir  would  not  be  remarkable  if  they 
dated  from  different  periods.  But  here  a  single  period  includes  them, 
even  if  we  think  that  either  the  western  or  the  eastern  limb  ma)  have 
been  reconstructed  after  the  fire  of  1122;  evc^n  so,  everything  must 
fall  within  a  space  of  thirty  years.  In  such  a  case  we  might  expect  to 
see  in  the  later  part  a  desire  to  carry  on  the  original  scheme,  at  least 
in  its  chief  features  —  something  like  what  we  saw  at  Durham,  where 
Ralph  Flambard's  work  in  the  nave  is  only  a  richer  version  ol  William 
of  Carilef's  work  in  the  choir.  1  think  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  in 
any  other  Norman  building  such  disparity  between  almost  contempo- 
raneous parts  as  e.xists  at  Gloucester.  But,  in  truth,  disparities  are 
the  rule  at  Gloucester;  we  have  just  seen  how  Abbot  Morwent,  in  the 
Perpendicular  period,  changed  his  mind  with  regard  to  the  design  of 
his  proposed  new  nave;  and  it  seems  all  the  stranger  that  he  should 
have  returned  to  the  belated  idea  of  a  tall  triforium-story  when  we 
remember  that  the  triforium  was  exceptionally  low  in  the  Norman 
nave  which  he  intended  to  replace. 


IV 

But  if  I  say  that  the  eastern  part  of  Gloucester  Cathedral  was  built 
like  Peterborough  Cathedral,  and  that  below  the  clearstory  it  still 
exists,  do  not  imagine  that  its  effect  is  still  the  same.  It  no  longer 
shows  us  a  solemn  perspective  of  thick  round  arches  and  ponderous 
plain  piers.  Yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  original  body  has  not  been 
recast  and  concealed  to  the  entire  denying  of  its  Norman  birth,  like 
the  original  Norman  body  at  Winchester.  The  whole  effect  is  Per- 
pendicular ;  yet  when  we  look  a  moment  we  see  that  the  whole  body 
of  the  structure  is  Norman  still.  The  Perpendicular  features  are  not 
so  much  structural  as  decorative ;  yet  they  are  applied  in  such  a  way 
that  they  everywhere  simulate  a  structural  design.  The  entire  surface 
of  the  heavy  Norman  work  is  covered  with  a  rich  overlay  of  shafting, 
moulding,  and  tracery,  through  the  interstices  of  which  the  original 
design  may  still  be  followed,  the  old  Norman  stones  may  still  be  seen. 

The  clearstory  is  wholly  of  Perpendicular  origin.  Its  great  win- 
dows, each  filling  the  compartment  from  side  to  side,  were  divided,  in 
the  usual  Perpendicular  manner,  into  elongated  rectangular  lights  with 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester. 


313 


little  arched  and  trefoiled  heads;  and  then  the  same  design  was  con- 
tinued downward  to  the  floor,  not  only  over  the  piers  and  wall-spaces, 
but  over  the  apertures  as  well.  The  wide  triforium-openings,  and 
even  those  of  the  pier-arcades,  were  treated  like  unglazed  windows 
and  screened  with  this  network  of  paneling,  while  the  piers  were 
faced  with  slender  grouped  shafts  and  small  capitals  which  support 
the  elaborate  ceiling. 

Of  course  this  ceiling,  like  the  clearstory,  is  of  Perpendicular  origin; 
and,  as  I  have  said,  the  east  end  of  the  presbytery  was  more  radically 


THE   CHUlK    A.NU    I'RLsUV  1  EKV,   LUOK.ING    EAsT. 


remodeled  than  its  sides.  The  wall  between  the  central  alley  and  the 
encircling  aisle  was  torn  down ;  length  was  increased  by  adding  a 
narrow  compartment  on  each  side,  and  breadth  by  slanting  this  addi- 
tion outward  ;  and  then  a  wall  was  built  across  the  end,  but  no  higher 
than  the  base  of  the  triforium.  This  wall,  pierced  with  one  semicircu- 
lar and  two  pointed  arches,  is  again  not  straight,  but  forms  one  longer 
and  two  shorter  sides  of  a  polygon.  Across  it  stands  the  tall  reredos ; 
over  its  surface  and  its  three  large  openings  runs  the  ubiquitous  pan- 


314 


English  Caflicih'als. 


eling;  and  tliis  continues  upward,  without  a  conspicuous  break  in  the 
desii^n,  to  form  the  vast  window  which  fills  all  the  rest  of  the  space. 


'-*=iJHJL'  ■■■- 


THE  NORTH    AISLE  oi     IHI,   .NAVK.    i.noKINi,    LAST   INTO  THE  TRANSEPT. 


One  could  hardly  imagine  a  more  magnificent  effect  than  is  thus  cre- 
ated. A  critic  who  believes  that  architectural  features  should  not  only 
be  strong  enough  but  look  strong  enough,  who  insists  that  some  visi- 
ble sturdiness  should  appear  in  a  wall  which  is  crowned  by  a  visibly 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester.  315 

ponderous  roof,  may  find  much  excuse  for  disapproval.  But  if  we 
merely  seek  a  wondering  pleasure  for  the  eye,  then  indeed  we  stand 
in  the  right  place.  Close  up  under  the  vaulting,  and  close  to  the  piers 
on  either  hand,  comes  the  stupendous  wall  of  glass, —  a  single  window 
to  the  eye,  although  bent  to  a  three-sided  shape, —  held  together  by 
stonework  patterns  so  open  and  slight  that  we  feel  as  though  a  strong 
wind  could  make  an  end  of  it.  Seventy-two  feet  in  height  and  thirty- 
eight  in  breadth,  it  is  the  largest  window  in  the  world,  and  we  fancy  it 
the  most  fragile.  Yet  it  has  stood,  stone  and  glass  together,  through 
five  centuries  of  sun  and  storm,  and  through  more  than  one  of  entire 
neglect.  In  1862  it  was  thoroughly  repaired  and  all  its  panes  were 
releaded ;  but  we  can  hardly  call  a  work  unstable  which  demands 
such  helping  after  half  a  thousand  years. 

It  is  difficult  even  to  suggest  the  sumptuous  effect  of  this  transfig- 
ured choir,  or  the  ingenious  ways  in  which  the  traceries  have  been 
adapted  to  their  very  various  situations.  Mr.  Pennell's  pictures  will 
serve  much  better  than  words,  but  nothing  in  architecture  so  vast  and 
elaborate  as  this  can  ever  have  its  veritable  look  explained  on  paper. 

The  view  of  choir  and  presbytery  from  the  entrance  of  the  ritual 
choir  in  the  nave,  which  is  given  tm  page  313,  reveals  the  east  win- 
dow far  off  in  the  distance  and  the  richness  of  the  ceiling ;  gives  a 
glimpse  at  the  left  into  the  north  arm  of  the  transept;  and  shows  the 
flying-arch  which  springs  across  the  whole  width  of  this  arm  beneath 
the  great  arch  that  supports  the  tower.  On  page  314  we  stand  in  the 
north  aisle  of  the  nave,  look  into  the  transept,  and  beyond  it  dimly 
discern  the  choir-aisle  ;  to  the  left  is  the  abbot's  door  into  the  cloister 
and  one  of  the  Norman  windows  —  which  were  placed  so  high  to  clear 
the  cloister-roofs  —  filled  with  Perpendicular  traceries;  and  on  the 
right  is  a  portion  of  the  wall  that  shuts  in  the  ritual  choir.  On  page 
317  we  are  placed  in  the  south  transept-arm  and  can  appreciate  its 
chapel-like  effect ;  and  looking  westward  along  the  aisle  of  the  nave, 
under  the  lofty  constructional  arch  below  which  extends  the  open 
tracery,  we  see  one  of  Abbot  Morwent's  Perpendicular  windows  in 
the  western  front.  And  on  page  308  the  view  is  reversed  ;  we  are  in 
the  south  aisle  of  the  nave  with  its  leaning  half-piers  and  Decorated 
vaulting,  and  we  see  the  screen-work  in  the  south  arm  of  the  transept. 

Interesting  indeed  are  the  perspectives,  varied  with  every  step  we 
take,  which  show  the  Perpendicular  adornment  set  now  in  lines  of 
black  against  some  brightly  lighted  space,  and  now  in  lines  of  light 
against  a  dark   stretch   of  aisle   or  a  deep   triforium-arch.      Nothing 


3i6  E)iglisli   Cathedrals. 

could  be  more  radical  than  its  contrast  with  the  massive  simple  forms 
amid  and  over  which  its  graceful  arches  and  slender  rectangles  are 
woven.  Yet  the  general  eftect  is  never  inharmonious ;  or  if  it  is,  we 
forget  the  fact  in  our  admiration  for  the  lively  fancy  and  the  technical 
skill  which  could  thus  change  sternness  into  lightness,  solemnit)-  into 
grace,  a  ponderous  into  a  delicate  vigor,  a  majestic  uniformity  into  an 
almost  playful  elaboration.  Other  English  interiors  are  more  logical, 
more  truly  beautiful  than  this ;  but  there  is  none  more  stately,  more 
rich,  or  more  imposing;  and  there  is  none  which  so  clearly  reveals 
that  passionate  love  for  the  style  and  manner  of  their  own  time 
which  ruled  mediaeval  men.  Simply  a  desire  for  what  was  thought  a 
far  superior  kind  of  beauty  led  to  the  alteration  of  this  Norman  work. 
Yet  how  naive  was  the  desire,  how  different  from  the  attitude  of  mod- 
ern men  toward  the  things  of  art  I  Sometimes  we  piously  "restore" 
an  ancient  work  and  Ijring  it  back  to  its  original  estate  as  nearly  as 
our  poor  wits  know  how.  Sometimes  we  pull  it  down  entirely  and 
build  a  new  work  of  our  own.  And  we  can  imagine,  perhaps,  doing 
what  Wykeham  did  at  Winchester — using  our  forefathers'  fabric  as 
though  it  were  our  own,  but  carefully  concealing  the  fact  that  we  had 
borrowed  it.  But  an  imperious  wish  to  alter  for  the  mere  sake  of 
altering,  combined  with  an  entire  frankness  in  confessing  both  the 
change  and  our  reason  for  making  it,  this  we  cannot  imagine  by  any- 
possible  effort. 

V 

A  TRUSTWORTHY  local  chronicle  recites  that  the  choir  of  Gloucester 
was  cased  and  vaulted  by  Abbots  Staunton  and  Horton,  who  ruled  the 
House  of  St.  Peter  between  1337  and  1377.  The  work  was  begun  in 
the  south  transept-arm,  and  all  the  other  portions,  including  the  lower 
stages  of  the  tower,  were  finished  before  the  east  end  was  turned  into 
a  eisftintic  window.  I  can  find  no  record  of  the  condition  of  the  tower, 
or  of  the  clearstorj-  in  choir  and  transept,  when  Staunton  began  his 
task ;  but  from  the  witness  of  the  nave,  and  from  the  history  of  the 
cloister,  we  must  believe  that  they  had  once  already  been  rebuilt  in 
the  Early  English  period. 

The  springing  of  the  flying-arch,  seen  in  the  picture  on  page  313, 
marks  the  level  above  which  the  whole  fabric  was  renewed  by  Staun- 
ton and  Horton  —  the  level  of  the  top  of  the  triforium.  Of  course 
there  is  a  mate  to  this  flying-arch  across  the  other  transept-arm  ;  and 
high  above  them  soar  the  arches  which  really  support  the  sides  of  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter —  Ghii tester. 


O'  I 


tower;   they  merely  support  capitals  which  correspond  with  the  capi- 
tals of  the   piers,  and   bear   the   tracery-patterns.      To  harmonize  the 


'\^'^ 


M 


lil 


>i> 


THE  SUUTH   AISLE  OF  THE   NAVE,  LOOKING   WEST   FRliM    IHK   TRANSEPT. 


vaulting  of  the  lantern  formed  by  the  open  stages  of  the  tower  with 
the  rest  of  the  design,  the  panel-work  on  each  face  of  the  lantern  had 


3i8 


Eiii^h's/i  Cathcdyals. 


to   be   arrantTL-d   within   two   great  arches;    the   ribs  which  were  thus 
brought  down  the  centre  of  each  face  found  nothing  to  support  them; 


tf  R  •4  fT. 


THE  CATHEDRAL,   FROM  THE  SOUTHEAST.     (FROM  THE  TOWER  OF  ST.  JOHNS  CHURCH.) 


and  so  the  flying-arch  and  its  capital  were  devised.  It  was  a  bold 
expedient  from  the  purely  artistic  point  of  view,  yet  not  too  bold  to 
be  in  keeping  with  the  rest  of  the  work;  and  from  the  structural  point 
of  view  there  was  little  audacity.  The  light  flying  spans  seem  to 
support  the  lantern-vault;  but  it  is  really  supported  by  much  more 
solid  stones  at  a  much  higher  level. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester.  319 

Abbots  Staunton  and  Horton  carried  the  tower  no  higher  than  the 
top  of  the  lantern.  The  magnificent  upper  body  which  appears  out- 
side the  church  was  begun  by  Abbot  Seabroke,  whose  chantry  rests 
against  one  of  the  supporting  piers,  and  was  finished  soon  after  his 
death,  about  the  middle  of  the  fifteenth  century.  Morwent  had  ruled 
in  Gloucester  just  before  Seabroke's  time.  The  splendor  of  the  new- 
wrought  choir  seems  to  have  inspired  his  wish  to  rebuild  the  nave. 
The  parts  that  he  completed  make  us  glad  that  he  went  no  further; 
and  Seabroke  was  wise  to  finish  the  tower  instead  of  carrying  out 
Morwent's  enterprise. 

Early  English  stalls  once  furnished  the  choir,  and  a  rare  fragment 
or  two  remain  to  show  their  character.  But  the  work  of  re-decoration 
was  thoroughly  done  in  the  fourteenth  century,  and  the  present  stalls, 
with  tall  overhanging  canopies,  are  delightful  examples  of  Perpendicu- 
lar art.  They  are  much  restored,  however,  and  the  great  reredos 
under  the  east  window  is  modern.  Behind  this  is  a  narrow  space, 
which  was  doubtless  the  feretory,  or  chamber  for  lesser  relics,  also 
used,  in  times  of  trouble,  to  conceal  the  treasures  of  the  church. 

Three  monuments  deserve  attention.  One  is  a  memorial  to  Osric, 
the  Saxon  viceroy,  where  a  rudely  sculptured  figure  of  uncertain  date 
(which  cannot  have  come  down  from  a  period  anywhere  ne'ar  Osric's 
own,  but  may  be  considerably  more  ancient  than  the  base  on  which  it 
stands)  lies  beneath  a  canopy  erected  in  the  sixteenth  century.  The 
second  is  the  tomb  of  Duke  Robert  of  Normandy,  eldest  son  of  the 
Conqueror,  which  originally  stood  in  the  chapter-house,  but  was 
broken  to  bits  in  the  Parliamentary  wars,  and  afterward  pieced  to- 
gether and  set  up  in  the  northeastern  apsidal  chapel  of  the  church. 
This,  too,  puzzles  the  antiquary.  The  plain  mortuary  chest  seems 
to  date  from  the  fifteenth  century ;  but  on  it  rests  a  cross-legged 
effigy  in  chain-armor,  carved  in  oak,  which  may  possibly  be  three  cen- 
turies older.  The  third  sepulchre  commemorates  Edward  II.,  and 
stands  between  two  of  the  piers  of  the  choir.  In  1327  the  body  of 
this  kino-  who  had  been  murdered  in  Berkeley  Castle,  was  brought 
by  Abbot  Thokey  to  Gloucester,  and  the  tomb  was  built  for  it  by 
Edward  III.  At  once  it  became  the  object-point  of  pilgrimages;  and 
to  do  it  honor  the  transfiguration  of  the  choir  and  transept  was  accom- 
plished with  the  money  poured  by  devotees  into  the  coffers  of  the 
abbey.  Yet  no  king  need  have'  asked  for  a  finer  monument  than 
the  tomb  itself — a  lofty  base  bearing  the  usual  recumbent  figure, 
and  a  soaring  canopy,  all  covered  with  slender  pinnacles  and  arched 


320  Riiglisli  Cathedrals. 

niches  wroug^ht  in  the  rich  and  graceful  late  Decorated  style.  Here 
Edward  111.  luin>;  up  a  great  golden  vessel  after  he  was  saved  from 
shipwreck;  hither  the  Black  Prince  brought  a  golden  crucifix  contain- 
ing a  bit  of  the  true  cross ;  here,  among  countless  minor  ofl'erings, 
shone  a  ruby  necklace  sent  by  the  Queen  of  Scotland,  and  a  jeweled 
heart  of  Queen  Philippa's;  aiul  here  miracles  were  wrought  for  all 
who  wanted  them.' 

Tile  Perpendicular  screening  conceals  this  monument  from  the  choir, 
but  we  see  it  fully  in  the  encircling  aisle,  to  which  the  apsidal  chapels 
give  unwonted  interest.  Once  there  were  three  such  chapels,  and  all 
three  stood  for  nearly  a  century  after  the  new  window  was  built.  But 
about  1450  the  central  one  was  removed,  and  the  place  it  had  filled 
became  a  low-walled  vestibule  for  a  splendid  Lady-chapel. 

The  picture  on  page  318  will  explain  the  station  of  this  chapel  better 
than  any  words.  It  is  another  of  the  individual  features  of  Gloucester. 
It  is  an  independent  buiUling,  not  a  continuation  of  the  church  ;  within 
the  choir  no  sign  of  it  appears  except  its  shadow  on  the  great  glass 
wall.  Only  when  we  get  behind  this  wall  in  the  aisle  do  we  realize 
that  there  is  still  a  farther  space.  An  astonishing  space  it  is  —  a  room 
which  seems  almost  all  of  glass,  and  is  complicated  with  oi^en  screens 
wherever  screens  could  go.  It  has  not  a  very  ecclesiastical  look,  per- 
haps. It  is  long  and  narrow,  without  aisles;  and  on  the  right  hand 
and  the  left  are  little  side-chapels,  two-storied  each,  which,  in  their 
elaI:)orate  enframing, — be  it  said  beneath  my  breath, — are  not  unlike 
gorgeous  Gothic  opera-boxes.  P)Ut  the  many  sepulchral  slabs  in 
the  pavement  excite  a  soberer  feeling;  and,  whatever  the  emotional 
mood  it  fosters,  there  can  be  no  question  with  regard  to  the  beauty 
of  the  room. 

The  ingenuity  with  which  it  was  united  to  the  church  on  the  old 
Norman  foundations  best  appears  in  the  triforium,  which  encircles  the 
whole  east  limb.  As  wide  as  the  aisles  below,  extending  above  the 
apsidal  chapels,  and  lighted  l)\-  large  window.s,  this  triforium  could 
hardly  be  called  a  gallery ;  it  was  more  truly  an  upper  story  for  ora- 
tories and  altars.  Its  space,  however,  was  so  greatly  encroached  upon 
at  the  extreme  end  when  a  l)ay  was  added  to  the  presbytery  and  the 
huge  window  was  built,  that  here  it  is  now  a  passage  in  the  strictest 
sense — seventy-five  feet  in  length,  but  only  three  in  breadth  and  eight 
in  height,  running  like  a  sort  of  bridge  over  the  vestibule  below,  be- 

i  The  cut  .It  the  head  of  this  chapter  shows  the  "White  Hart,"  which  was  the  badge  of  Edward  II., 
and  is  many  times  repeated  in  the  carvings  upon  his  tomb. 


The  CatJiedral  of  St.  Peter  —  Gloucester. 


321 


tween  the  east  window  of  the  church  and  the  west  window  of  the 
Lady-chapel,  close  to  both  but  touching  neither.  Although  the  ter- 
minal Norman  chapel  was  destroyed  below,  it  was  preserved  in  this 


THE   LAUY-CHAPEL,  LOOKING   TOWARD   THE   CHURCH. 


second  story,  and  we  can  now  enter  it,  like  a  bay-window,  from  the 
narrow  gallery,  and  look  into  the  Lady-chapel.  Here,  too,  we  see  that 
three  great  flying-buttresses  spring  from  the  outer  wall  of  the  aisle. 


21 


-22  Eiig/ish  Caflicdmh. 

meet  in  a  point  hcliind  the  new  inner  wall,  and  sustain  the  slender 
buttress  which  supports  the  gigantic  window.  TIk-  whole  arrangement 
is  extremely  curious,  extremely  skilful — easy  enough  to  appreciate  on 
the  spot,  but  ditificult  to  describe.  To  the  idle  tourist,  however,  the 
chief  interest  of  this  bridge-like  gallery  lies  in  its  accidental  acoustic 
properties.  It  is  famous  as  the  "  Whispering  C'.allery  of  Gloucester," 
for  the  lowest  utterance  voiced  at  one  entl,  or  the  slightest  pin-scratch 
made  on  the  wall,  is  distinctly  heard  at  the  other  end,  seventy-five 
feet  away. 

The  crypt  perfectly  reproduces  the  plan  of  the  old  Norman  east 
limb,  and  it  likewise  extends  beneath  the  apsidal  chapels  of  the  tran- 
sept, although  not  beneath  the  transept  itself  The  eastern  end  seems 
to  have  been  built  on  a  quicksand  with  insufficient  foundations.  The 
remaining  Norman  features  in  this  part  of  the  upper  church  show  signs 
of  dislocation,  and  works  of  reinforcement  are  visible  in  the  crypt.  Hut 
these  repairs  are  Norman,  like  the  original  stones;  and  in  the  rest  of 
the  choir  and  presbytery  the  early  builders  built  their  best.  Here 
their  fabric  stands  straight  and  sturdy  still,  although  the  east  wall  has 
been  turned  into  glass,  a  heavy  Perpendicular  decoration  has  been 
cemented  on  all  the  surfaces,  and  a  tremendous  tower  rests  on  the  four 
old  supports. 

VI 

IxTERMixGi.ED  Nomian  and  Perpendicular  work  still  meets  us  as  we 
pass  to  the  chapter-house  and  cloister.  These  we  find  lying,  like  the 
monastic  structures  at  Canterbury,  to  the  northward  of  the  nave  in- 
stead of  in  their  true  monastic  place,  and  probably  the  reason  for 
the  anomaly  was  in  both  cases  the  same ;  probably  the  streets 
of  Gloucester  always  ran  as  close  to  the  south  side  of  the  church 
as  they  do  to-day.  Between  the  church  and  the  chapter-house  lies 
a  narrow  walk  called  the  Abbot's  Cloister,  which  is  partly  of  Nor- 
man and  partly  of  Perpendicular  workmanship.  The  chapter-house 
opens,  however,  on  the  main  quadrangle.  It  is  a  rectangular  room, 
with  a  great  semicircular  doorway,  covered  for  three-quarters  of  its 
length  by  a  slightly  pointed  wooden  barrel-vault,  and  encircled  for  the 
same  distance  by  a  round-arched  blank  arcade.  The  eastern  end  is  a 
Perpendicular  addition,  which,  with  its  richly  groined  roof,  its  large 
east  window,  and  its  cut-off  corners,  might  almost  be  called  an  apse. 

Abbot  Horton,  who  completed  the  Perpendicular  casings  in  the  choir 
of  the  church,  began  his  rule  in  135  i,  and  .Abbot  Frocester,  who  wrote 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter —  Gloucester. 


323 


the  chronicle  which  tells  us  all  we  know  of  the  mighty  fabric  of  St. 
Peter's,  died  in  141 2.  Between  these  dates  the  cloister  was  built, 
taking  the  place  of  an  Early  English  quadrangle  which  must  itself 
hav'e  supplanted  a  Norman  one.  This,  I  think,  is  the  most  magnificent 
series  of  cloister-walks  in  Encfland,  and  in  no  other  are  sig-ns  of  former 
usefulness  so  well  preserved.  Instead  of  the  open  arcades,  character- 
istic of  earlier  generations,  we  find  rows  of  great  glazed  windows  which 


THE   NUKIH    WALK   OK   THE   CLOISTER.    WITH    I'HE   L.^VATORV. 


insure  complete  protection  from  the  weather.  In  the  north  walk  the 
wall  projects  a  little  to  give  room  for  the  lavatories, — a  hollowed  stone 
bench  of  considerable  length, — while  opposite  is  a  closet  for  towels; 
and  the  south  walk  is  lined  to  nearly  half  its  height  by  a  range  of  little 
cells,  one  lying  beneath  each  window.  Set  thus  far  away  from  the 
distractions  of  the  world,  these  cells,  or  "carols,"  served  as  studies  for 
the  monks ;  and  so  peaceful,  so  ancient,  yet  so  serviceable  seems  the 
spot  that  we  half  expect,  as  each  tiny  chamber  is  passed,  to  see  a  sable 


324  English   Caf/icdrn/s. 

gown  and  a  shaven  poll  bending  over  some  ponderous  work  of  ghostly- 
counsel,  or  sonic  Book  of  1  lours  where  brilliant  initial  letters  are  slowly 
growing  on  the  page. 

But  the  great  feature  of  this  cloister  is  the  ceiling,  which  spreads  its 
fans  of  stone  over  all  four  walks.  Judged  for  true  architectural  excel- 
lence, fan-vaulting  does  not  satisfy  the  purest  taste.  Concave,  not 
convex,  forms  arc  natural  and  appropriate  in  a  vault;  these  huge  cones, 
it  has  often  been  said,  look  too  much  like  genuine  vaults  turned  inside 
out.  Yet  they  have  many  defenders  in  the  land  where  they  originated, 
and  they  are  sure  to  delight  an  uncritical  eye,  for  they  give  splendor 
and  sumptuousness  to  any  interior,  no  matter  how  poor  its  other  parts 
may  be. 

VII 

-  Although  the  main  approach  to  this  church  shows  us  a  much  less 
impressive  composition  than  wc  see  from  a  similar  point  at  Canterbury 
or  Lincoln,  it  would  be  hard  to  tind  anything  more  t)  pically  cathedral- 
like than  its  aspect  when  we  stand  on  high  ground  to  the  eastward, 
and  the  Lady-chapel  groups  with  the  vast  east  window,  while  the  gor- 
geous tower  soars  beyond  and  above  them. 

The  tower  shows  equally  well  from  the  cloister-garth  just  below  it; 
but  I  shall  not  attempt  to  say  from  which  place  it  shows  best.  For 
many  miles  on  every  side  of  Gloucester  we  see  its  rich  pale-gray  form, 
relieved  upon  the  pale  blue  of  an  English  sunny  sky,  or  blending,  tone 
for  tone,  with  tlie  pale  grays  of  English  clouds,  or  standing  out,  dark 
for  the  nonce,  against  the  radiance  of  sunset — a  pharos  to  the  neigh- 
boring hills,  as  Leland  called  it  in  his  "Itinerary"  centuries  ago.  I  have 
never  beheld  it  as  do  those  who  come  up  from  the  sea  in  ships,  but  it 
must  greet  them  even  more  majestically  than  that  Antwerp  spire  which 
gives  many  Americans  their  first  lesson  in  the  grandeur  of  mediaeval 
churches.  In  general  scheme  it  is  very  like  the  central  tower  of  Canter- 
bury. There  is  the  same  division  into  two  stories,  with  four  canopied 
windows  in  each  face,  and  almost  the  same  height — 235  feet  at  Canter- 
bury, 225  at  Gloucester.  But  as  a  structural  composition  Canterbury's 
tower  is  the  finer,  for  its  angle-turrets,  instead  of  stopping  with  the  first 
stage,  run  up  straight  and  slender  to  the  cornice  and  beyond  it,  increas- 
ing grace  and  lightness  of  outline,  and  binding  all  the  stories  together. 
Gloucester's  tower  is  the  earlier  by  almost  half  a  century  ;  it  was  begun 
in  1450,  and  Canterbury's  not  until  1495. 

The  beginning  of  the  Perpendicular  style  may  be  placed,  as  we  have 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester.  325 

seen,  near  the  middle  of  the  fourteenth  century;  and  its  end  was  not 
until  the  death  of  Gothic  art  in  general  —  until  the  triumph  of  the 
reborn  classic  spirit  in  the  seventeenth  century.  During  more  than 
two  centuries  of  great  national  activity,  wealth,  and  ambition,  when 


Jilii  --^^ 


-  -^-V^f  Vi  ^'>5'  '-''  • 


THE  CATHEDRAL.   FROM  THE  NORTHWEST.      (FROM   THE  TOWER  OF  ST.  MARY  DE  LODE.) 


architecture  was  still  the  chief  of  all  the  arts  and  their  nursing-mother, 
we  might  expect  to  find  constant  changes  and  developments ;  and,  in 
truth,  the  earlier  Perpendicular  work  differs  in  very  important  ways 
from  the  later.  When  the  style  was  young  it  found  a  great  deal  to  do 
in  the  cathedrals.  Norman  structures  were  sometimes  half  in  ruins, 
like  the  nave  at  Canterbury  ;  even  when  they  were  not,  their  stern  and 
solemn  aspect  dissatisfied  current  taste,  and  they  were  remodeled,  like 
21* 


J 


26  English  Catliciimh. 


the  nave  at  Winchester,  or  transfigured,  like  the  choir  at  Gloucester ; 
and  when  all  work  of  this  importance  had  been  done,  there  were  still 
minor  features  to  alter  and  adorn.  But  by  the  time  the  style  had 
reached  its  latest  phase  little  remained  possible  in  the  cathedrals 
except  the  building  of  tombs  and  chantries,  and  no  new  cathedrals 
were  required.  So,  to  make  a  complete  study  of  this  style,  one  must 
turn  to  parish  churches,  to  the  famous  chapel  of  Henry  \'I1.  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  and  to  the  great  collegiate  buildings  of  Cambridge 
and  Oxford.  The  cathedrals  show  us,  for  example,  every  form  of 
vaulting  down  to  the  fan-vault  which  spans  the  cloister  of  Gloucester, 
and,  on  a  much  more  splendid  .scale,  the  New  Building  at  Peterbor- 
ough. But  to  see  the  final  stage  of  this  form  of  vaulting,  where  great 
inverted  cones  depend  from  the  centre  of  the  ceiling  with  no  supports 
beneath  them,  we  must  look  at  Henry  VII. 's  chapel.  Yet  there  is  no 
other  single  place  where  so  adequate  an  idea  of  the  course  of  the  Per- 
pendicular style  may  be  obtained  as  at  Gloucester.  Here,  in  the  south 
arm  of  the  transept,  we  see,  according  to  some  authorities,  the  very 
earliest  piece  of  work  which  can  truly  be  called  Perpendicular ;  the 
rest  of  the  transept  and  the  east  limb  reveal  the  successive  steps  which 
brought  the  style  to  its  middle  development;  the  tower  and  the  Lady- 
chapel  are  later  still ;  antl  in  the  cloister  we  probably  find  the  first  fan- 
vaults  which  were  ever  built. 

A  word  more  about  window-traceries.  In  Chapter  \'I  I  tried  to 
show  how  such  traceries  developed  from  two  or  three  plain  windows 
simply  grouped  together  with  small  apertures  pierced  in  the  wall 
above,  and  how  their  character  radically  changed,  at  first  the  form 
of  the  openings — light  in  a  dark  expanse  of  wall — being  the  thing 
which  the  architect  bore  in  mind,  and  afterward  the  pattern  made 
by  the  stone  bars — dark  against  a  luminous  background.  In  the 
height  of  the  Decorated  period,  when  English  architecture  was  most 
nearly  akin  to  French,  this  type  of  window-design  reached  its  most 
perfect  estate;  and  in  France  it  was  never  given  up:  it  was  pushed 
more  and  more  to  an  extreme,  the  stone  bars  flowing  and  curving 
in  the  most  luxuriant  patterns,  and  the  shape  of  the  lights  being  ever 
less  and  less  regarded. 

But  in  England  the  change  from  the  Decorated  to  the  Perpendicu- 
lar style  meant  a  going  back,  in  theory,  to  first  principles.  In  a  typi- 
cal Perpendicular  w^indow  the  eye  is  again  supposed  to  rest,  not  upon 
the  tracery-patterns,  but  upon  the  shapes  of  the  lights  themselves. 
These  are  fine  in  outline  and  harmoniously  grouped,  while  if  we  fol- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Gloucester.  2>-7 

low  the  stone  lines  we  find  them  always  uninteresting  and  often  ugly. 
Some  English  writers  declare  that  the  change  was  a  good  one,  or,  at 
least,  that  it  was  logical  and  satisfactory  in  view  of  the  development 
of  the  glazier's  art;  for,  as  this  development  meant  a  growing  skill  in 
the  drawincr  of  the  figure,  it  was  well  that  the  irreg-ular  curvine  out- 
lines  of  the  lights  in  the  window-heads  should  be  exchanged  for  sim- 
pler forms.      But  we   may  protest   that   the   figure-painter  lost   more 


THE  CATHEDRAL,  FROM  THE  NORTH. 


than  he  gained  by  the  introduction  of  Perpendicular  traceries ;  for, 
if  he  gained  in  the  window-head,  he  lost  by  that  subdivision  of  the 
lower  field  which  gave  him,  indeed,  a  chance  for  many  figures,  but 
prescribed  a  very  small  size  for  them  all.  And,  moreover,  theories 
fall  to  the  ground  unless  the  witness  of  the  eye  sustains  them.  Per- 
haps, in  theory,  it  was  well  at  this  period  to  give  more  attention 
to  the  forms  of  the  lights ;  and  perhaps  the  patterns  made  by  the 
stonework  in   Perpendicular  windows  are  not,  if  examined  on  paper, 


328  English  CatJicdrah. 

more  unsfraceful  than  those  whicli  \vc  often  find  in  the  stonework 
of  the  early  plate-traceried  windows.  But  when  face  to  face  with 
his  work,  we  are  not  content  with  the  Perpendicular  architect's  con- 
ception. The  mind  may  grasp  and,  perhaps,  even  approve  his  idea; 
but  the  eye  does  not  accept  it.  No  one  really  notices  the  shape  of  the 
stonework  in  a  plate-traceried  window  ;  no  one  can  help  noticing  it 
in  a  Perpendicular  window.  The  proportion  of  the  solids  to  the  voids 
has  radically  changed,  and  with  it  the  strength  of  the  impressions  that 
they  respectively  make.  There  is  enough  opaque  stone  in  a  plate- 
traceried  window  to  make  a  background  for  the  luminous  portions; 
there  is  not  nearly  enough  in  a  Perpendicular  window.  Coerce  our 
eyes  as  we  will  in  front  of  such  a  window,  we  cannot  help  seeing,  in- 
stead of  a  series  of  nicely  proportioned  little  lights  set  in  fields  of 
stone,  an  embroidery  of  stone  lines  on  a  luminous  surface;  and  this 
linear  embroidery  is  always  meagre  and  ungraceful,  and  often  very 
thin  and  ugly. 


Chapter  XII 

THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  PETER YORK 

S  we  naturally  think  of  the  cathedrals  of  Salis- 
bury and  Lichfield  together,  so  it  is  with  those 
of  Lincoln  and  York.  The  likeness  between 
them  is  merely  of  a  general  kind,  and  disap- 
pears when  their  features  are  examined;  yet, 
added  to  the  fact  of  their  near  neighborhood, 
it  suffices  to  bind  them  together  in  one's 
memory.  Each  is  a  vast  three-towered  but 
spireless  church.  Each  stands  in  a  town  that  was  famous  in  the 
earliest  times,  and  still  seems  large  and  living  in  spite  of  the  greater 
size  and  more  strenuous  temper  of  those  black  hives  of  commerce 
which  our  century  has  developed  in  the  north  of  England.  And  each 
is  distinctively  a  city  church,  sparsely  provided  with  green  surround- 
ings. When  we  think  of  the  cathedral  of  Lincoln  or  of  York,  we  think 
of  little  more  than  its  architectural  effect ;  and  this  can  be  said  of  no 
other,  which  is  ancient  in  fabric  and  in  cathedral  name,  except  St. 
Paul's  in  London.^ 


The  history  of  York  as  a  cathedral  town  begins  much  further  back 
than  that  of  Lincoln.  The  Normans  first  set  up  an  episcopal  chair  in 
the  place  which  centuries  before  had  been  Lindum  Colonia  of  the 
Romans;  but  as  early  as  the  year  314  Eboracum  of  the  Romans  had 
sent  a  British  bishop  to  take  part  in  the  councils  of  southern  Christen- 
dom, and  where  there  was  a  bishop  there  must  have  been,  in  some 
shape,  a  cathedral  church.      In  the  fifth  century  walls  and  worshipers 

1  The  best  description  of  the  cathcclr.il  of  York  is  Professor  Willis's  "  .-Vrchitectur.-xl  History  of  York 
Minster,"  published  in  the  Transactions  of  the  Archdological  Institute  for  tlie  year  1846. 

3=9 


330  Eng/is/i   Catliciiyals. 

were  swept  away  by  English  immigration.  But  the  first  preacher  who 
spoke  of  Christ  to  the  pagan  English  of  York  bore  an  even  higher  title 
than  bishop.  With  liim  —  with  our  old  friend  Paulinus  in  the  early 
years  of  the  seventh  century  —  began  that  archiepiscopal  line  which  still 
holds  sway  in  the  northern  shires.  It  is  true  that  the  new  chair  was 
almost  immediately  overturned  by  the  heathen,  that  Paulinus  fled  to 
far-off  Rochester  and  never  returned,  and  that  for  a  century  there  was 
not  again  a  fully  accredited  archbishop,  and  sometimes  not  even  a 
bishop,  at  York.  Yet  the  right  of  the  town  to  its  high  ecclesiastical 
rank  was  never  quite  forgotten  through  all  those  stormy  hundred 
years,  and  from  the  eighth  century  to  the  twentieth  the  "  Primate  of 
Enorland  "  has  sat  at  York  while  the  "Primate  of  All  Engfland"  has 
sat  at  Canterbury.  The  terms  are  perplexing,  and  their  origin  sounds 
not  a  little  childish  in  our  modern  ears. 

When  Pope  Gregory  sent  Paulinus  after  Augustine  to  England,  he 
meant  that  there  should  be  an  archbishop  in  the  south  and  another  in 
the  north,  and  that  each  should  liave  twelve  dioceses  under  his  rule. 
But  no  such  orderly  arrangement,  no  sucli  equal  division  of  authority, 
was  ever  effected  ;  and  there  was  long  and  bitter  quarreling  between 
the  two  archiepiscopal  lines  —  the  southern  fighting  for  supremacy, 
and  tlie  northern  for  equal  rights.  In  the  synod  of  1072  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York  was  declared  by  Rome  to  be  his  rival's  subordinate, 
but  about  fifty  years  later  Rome  spoke  again  to  pronounce  them 
equals,  and  the  unbrotherly  struggle  continued,  wa.xing  and  waning 
but  never  ceasing,  until  in  1354  the  pope  discovered  a  recipe  of  con- 
ciliation. Canterbury's  archbishop  was  to  be  called  "  Primate  of  All 
England,"  but  York's  was,  nevertheless,  to  be  called  "  Primate  of 
England  " ;  each  was  to  carry  his  cross  of  office  erect  in  the  province 
of  the  other,  but  whenever  a  Primate  of  England  was  consecrated  he 
was  to  send  to  the  Primate  of  All  England,  to  be  laid  on  the  shrine 
of  St.  Thomas,  a  golden  jewel  of  the  value  of  forty  pounds.  "Thus," 
as  caustic  Fuller  wrote,  "  when  two  children  cry  for  the  same  apple, 
the  indulgent  father  divides  it  between  them,  yet  so  that  he  gives  the 
better  part  to  the  childe  which  is  his  darling." 

To-day  the  Archbishop  of  York  is  simply  the  ruler  of  the  few 
northern  sees  of  England,  and  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  the  ruler 
of  the  many  central  and  southern  sees.  Neither  owes  filial  duty  or 
can  claim  paternal  rights,  but  Canterbury  is  a  good  deal  the  bigger 
brother  of  the  two. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  the  matter  to  a  stranger's  mind  is  that 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — Vork. 


331 


the  verbal  jugglinj^r  of  the  Roman  father  should  still  be  piously  echoed 
although  it  is  so  many  generations  since  any  English  primate  was 
his  darling  child.  The  English  people  has  long  been  credited  with 
the  desire  both  to  eat  and  to  have  its  cake ;  but  such  facts  as  the 
preservation  of  these  archiepiscojsal  titles  prove  that  its  desire  is  a 
veritable  power.  To  a  large  degree  the  cakes  of  Old  England  still 
cheer  the  imagination  of  the  modern  Briton,  though  he  really  nourishes 


YORK    .MINSTER,    FROM   THE   NORTH. 


his  lile  on  very  different  food.  He  is  progressive  in  intellect  but  con- 
servative at  heart,  and  so  he  often  manages  to  keep  the  form  of  things 
while  altering  their  essence ;  he  secures  the  new  yet  clothes  it  with 
nominal  reverence  for  the  old.  We  cannot  fancy  any  strife  to-day 
between  the  two  primates  of  England,  or  a  leaning  toward  Rome  in 
their  hearts,  or  a  conscious  love  of  shams  and  fictions.  Yet  we  cannot 
fancy  them  for  a  moment  content  to  be  deprived  of  those  illogical  titles 
which,  when  we  come  down  to  facts,  are  but  badges  of  Rome's  quon- 


332  English  Catlicdmls. 

dam  rule,  relics  of  ancieni  cjuarrclings,  tokens  of  a  childlike  satisfac- 
tion in  the  pomp  of  empty  sounds.  Of  course  such  anomalies  prove 
that  sentiment  is  stronger  in  the  average  Englishman  than,  fur  exam- 
ple, in  the  Frenchman,  while  the  logical  imagination  is  much  weaker. 
He  does  not  insist,  like  the  Frenchman,  that  traditional  symbols  be 
abandoned  when  the  things  they  symbolize  are  given  up,  both  because 
he  has  a  stronger  love  for  ancient  words  and  forms  on  account  of  their 
mere  antiquity,  and  because  he  feels  a  less  insistent  need  to  itlentify 
them  with  ideas,  beliefs,  or  facts. 


II 

As  the  archbishops  of  York  trace  back  to  Paulinus,  so  too  does  their 
cathedral.  When  King  Edwin  of  Northumbria  was  about  to  be  bap- 
tized, in  the  year  625,  he  hastily  constructed  a  little  wooden  church 
which,  as  soon  as  possible,  he  replaced  by  one  of  stone.  Whether 
or  not  this  church  stood  until  the  Conquest  is  uncertain.  It  was 
greatly  damaged  in  the  wars  which  caused  the  death  of  Edwin  and 
the  flight  of  Paulinus,  and  was  repaired  about  670  by  Bishop  Wilfrid, 
who  whitewashed  its  walls  till  they  were  "like  snow"  inside  and  out, 
and  for  the  first  lime  put  glass  in  its  windows — Iioards  pierced  with 
holes,  or  sheets  of  oil-soaked  linen,  having  filled  them  in  its  founder's 
time.  Of  these  facts  we  are  sure;  but  we  cannot  l^e  sure  whether  the 
cathedral  church  is  meant  when  it  is  said  that  a  certain  minster  at 
York  was  burned  and  reconstructed  in  the  tenth  century.  At  all  events, 
however,  the  harrying  which  revolted  York  received  at  the  Conqueror's 
hand  reduced  its  cathedral  to  ruin  ;  and  the  first  Norman  archbishop, 
Thomas  of  Bayeu.x,  rebuilt  it  from  the  foundations  up,  while  Arch- 
bishop Roger,  who  ruled  in  the  time  of  Henry  II.,  from  i  154  to  i  181, 
again  reconstructed  crypt  and  choir  in  a  newer  Norman  fashion  ;  or,  it 
is  possible,  Thomas  merely  repaired  and  altered  the  pre-Nonnan  choir 
when  he  built  his  new  nave  and  transept,  and  Roger  first  really  re- 
constructed it.  In  the  Early  English  period  the  transept  and  the 
lower  portions  of  the  central  tower  were  rebuilt,  and  in  the  Decorated 
period  the  nave  and  the  west  front  with  the  lower  stories  of  its  towers. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  Perpendicular  period  a  presbytery  and  a  retro- 
choir  were  thrown  out  eastward  of  the  Norman  choir ;  and  then  this 
choir  was  pulled  down  and  rebuilt  in  a  later  Perpendicular  style, 
the  central  tower  was  wholly  renewed  and  finished,  and  the  upper 
stages  of  the  western  ones  were  added.     Thus,  although  no  great  ca- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter— York. 


\EFnq 

Wee. 


PLAN   OF  YORK   CATHEDRAL.l 

FROM  Murray's  "handbooks  to  the  cathedrals  of  England." 

A,  Nave  and  aisles.  B,  South  arm  of  great  transept  and  aisles.  C,  South  tran- 
sept entrance.  D,  North  arm  of  great  transept  and  aisles.  E,  Vestibule  to 
chapter-house.  F,  Chapter-house.  G.  Choir.  H,  Presbytery  and  high  altar. 
I,  K,  Aisles  of  choir  and  presbytery.  L,  Retrochoir.  M,  Record-room.  N, 
Vestry.     O,  Treasury.     P,  Record-room. 


once  rose   so   high   that   the 
some  eieht  feet  higher  than  it 


tastrophe  again  befell 
the  church  after  the 
Conqueror  burned  it, 
g-radual  renewal  did 
as  thorough  a  work 
as  flame,  once  for  all 
its  parts  and  twice  for 
some  of  them.  No- 
thing remains  to-day 
of  the  Old  English 
cathedral  except  a 
few  fragments  of  its 
crypt  built  into  the 
Norman  crypt,  and 
nothing  above  the 
crypt  remains  either 
of  the  Norman  church 
of  Thomas  or  of  the 
Norman  choir  of 
Roger.  Everything 
that  we  see  above 
ground  is  of  later 
date  than  the  advent 
of  the  pointed  arch. 
And  even  the  crypt 
has  been  sadly  mutila- 
ted. It  extends  as  far 
to  the  eastward  as  the 
Norman  choir  extend- 
ed, and  branches  out 
into  transept-arms  ; 
and  we  can  see  that 
choir-floor  above  them  must 
does  to-day.      But  when  this 


its   vaults 

have  lain  ^  ^ 

floor  was    rebuilt   at    its    present    level,   continuing    the    level    of  the 

other  parts  of  the  church,  the  vaults  beneath  it  were  destroyed,  and 

the  abandoned  crypt,  excepting  only  a  small  reserved  portion  beneath 

1  The  external  length  of  York  Cathedral  is  518  feet,  ceiling  of  the  lantern  stands  188  feet  above  the  floor, 

and   the   internal   length   486   feet.      The    transept  The  chapter-house  is  57  feet  in  diameter  and  67  feet 

measures  223  feet.     The  Five  Sisters  are  54  feet  in  10  inches  in  height, 
height,  and  each  is  5  feet  7  inches  in  width.     The 


oo4 


I£//g//s//  Catlicdyals. 


the  high  altar,   was  filled  with  a  solid  mass  of  earth  which  was  not 
removed  until  very  recent  years. 

Moreover,  the  effect  of  the  church  itself  is  determined  chiefly  by  the 
later  Gothic  work  —  not  by  the  Lancet-Pointed  transept,  but  by  the 
Decorated  nave  and  the  Perpendicular  east  limb,  stretching  away  in  a 


THE  WEST   FRONT. 


long,  light,  elaborate,  and  unusually  harmonious  perspective.  It  is  hard 
indeed  to  realize  the  great  antiquity  of  York  Minster  when  we  turn 
from  the  witness  of  history  to  the  witness  of  art. 


Ill 


York's  west  front,  like  Lincoln's,  looks  on  a  paved  square,  but  there 
is  no  other  resemblance  between  them.  Instead  of  an  imposing  and 
individual,  if  illogical  and  unbeautiful,  fagade,  York  shows  us  a  some- 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York.  335 

what  imperfect  and  unimpressive  version  of  the  logical  and  beautiful 
French  type.  Three  rich  portals  admit  into  nave  and  aisles ;  the 
towers  form  integral  parts  of  the  front,  and  a  gable  rises  between 
them ;  much  rich  decoration  is  intelligently  applied  to  accent  construc- 
tional facts ;  and  the  main  window  is  a  most  beautiful  example  of 
flowing  tracery.  This  is  unquestionably  the  best  cathedral  fagade  in 
England  ;  yet,  if  we  look  a  little  narrowly,  it  shows  a  good  many  faults. 
Its  features  are  well  chosen  and  well  arranged,  but  they  are  not  well 
proportioned  among  themselves  or  very  well  adapted  to  the  interior 
of  the  church.  In  comparison  with  the  size  of  the  portals,  the  windows 
are  too  large  ;  the  principal  one  is  much  too  large  for  the  nave  which 
it  lights,  as  we  see  more  plainly  when  we  pass  inside  the  church; 
and  a  keener  feeling  for  the  value  of  secondary  lines  would  have  in- 
creased the  apparent  height  of  the  towers  by  putting  two  or  three 
ranges  of  smaller  apertures  in  place  of  each  of  these  great  transomed 
windows.  Moreover,  the  scale  of  the  whole  work  is  so  small  that  it  lacks 
the  dignity,  the  impressiveness,  the  superb  power  and  "lift"  of  its  great 
Gallic  prototypes.  But,  of  course,  had  it  been  larger  it  would  not  have 
been  so  truthful ;  and  thus  we  are  again  brought  back  to  the  question 
whether  or  not  it  was  possible  to  give  a  low  narrow  English  cathedral 
a  really  fine  fagade  —  whether  the  Perpendicular  architect  was  not  su- 
premely wise  when  he  built  a  west  end  which  could  hardly  be  called  a 
fagade  at  all.  At  all  events,  there  is  not  a  large  Gothic  front  in  Eng- 
land which  a  modern  architect  would  study  as  a  model. 

Despite  the  unusual  dignity  of  these  western  doors,  they  are  not 
used  as  the  chief  place  of  entrance  to  the  church.  As  we  approach 
York  Minster'  from  the  centre  of  the  town,  the  way  lies  through  a  pic- 
turesque ancient  street  called  the  Stonegate ;  and  this  debouches  on  a 
wide  stretch  of  pavement  opposite  the  south  side,  and  leads  naturally 
to  the  great  doorway  in  the  transept-end.  But  the  fact  is  not  unfortu- 
nate ;  for,  entering  thus,  we  not  only  see  first  the  earliest  portions  of 
the  great  interior,  but  we  get  a  diagonal  view  into  nave  and  choir 
which  is  much  finer  than  a  straight  view  along  their  enormous  length. 

We  see  first  the  earliest  portions  of  the  church,  and,  immediately  be- 
fore us  as  we  cross  the  threshold,  its  most  individual  and  famous  fea- 
ture— that  splendid  group  of  equal  lancet-windows,  rising  in  arrow-like 
outlines  to  a  height  of  fifty- four  feet  and  filled  with  ancient  glass,  which 

1  "  Minster  "  is  derived  from  the  s.ime  source  as  the  cathedral  of  York  has  for  centuries  been  com- 

"  monastery,"   and   means,  in    strictness,  a  church  monly  called  York    Minster,  although    its   chapter 

owned  and  served  by  monks.    But  it  gradually  came  was  always  collegiate, 
to  be  used   for  other   churches  of  great  size,  and 


336 


Ensr/is/i  C  \itliciiyah. 


THE  SOUTH   TRANSEPT-END  AND  THE  CENTRAL  TOWER,    FkOM    THE  STONEGATE. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York. 


JO/ 


oo 


are  always  called  the  "  Five  Sisters."  York's  great  and  peculiar  glory 
is  its  glass;  but  none  of  the  scores  of  gorgeous  windows  in  which  many 
colors  contrast  and  sparkle  are  more  beautiful  than  these,  where  a  pale- 


mm-- 


THE  FIVE  SISTERS,    FROM   THE  SOUTH   TRANSEPT   ENTRANCE. 


green  tone,  like  that  of  glacier-ice,  is  delicately  diapered  with  inconspic- 
uous patterns  of  a  darker  hue.  The  transept  was  built  just  before  1 250, 
and  the  glass  in  these  lancets  cannot  be  of  much  later  date.      Above 

them  is  another  group  of  five,  but  graduated   in  height  beneath  the 
22 


338  Eiig/is/i  Catliccimls. 

vaulting.  Opposite,  in  tiic  end  ol  the  southern  arm  ot  the  transept,  is 
the  door  through  which  we  entered,  flanked  by  rich  blind  arcades ; 
four  lancets  stand  above  it,  grouped  in  pairs ;  above  these  is  a  cen- 
tral pair  with  a  single  light  on  either  side ;  and  a  great  rose-win- 
dow fills  the  gable. ' 

In  the  pier-arcades  which  stretch  between  the  main  alley  of  each 
transept-arm  and  its  aisles  an  odd  irregularity  at  once  attracts  atten- 
tion. As  might  easily  be  supposed,  the  man)  alterations  of  the 
minster  did  not  leave  it  as  they  found  it  with  regard  to  size.  Each 
new  construction  meant  enlargement,  and  if  we  compare  the  plan 
of  the  present  church  with  one  of  Thomas  of  Bayeu.x's  church,  we 
find  that  breadth  has  greatly  increased  while  length  has  actually 
doubled.  When  the  Early  English  transept  was  built  the  Norman 
nave  and  choir  were  standing,  and  their  aisles  were  e.xtremely  nar- 
row. Therefore  a  narrow  arch  led  from  each  of  these  aisles  into 
the  adjoining  new  transept-aisle ;  and  the  arch  nearest  the  crossing  in 
the  pier-arcade  of  each  transept-arm  was  made  of  corresponding  size, 
although  the  other  three,  which  completed  the  arcade,  were  given  a 
much  wider  span. 

But  when  the  nave  came  in  its  turn  to  be  rebuilt,  its  aisles  were 
greatly  widened ;  and  then  the  piers  of  the  narrow  arches  in  the 
transept  stood  in  the  axes  of  these  aisles  instead  of  parallel  with  their 
walls.  This,  of  course,  was  a  practical  inconvenience,  and  so  it  was 
remedied  in  the  only  practicable  way.  The  narrow  arches  were  taken 
down,  and  the  broader  ones  adjoining  them  were  also  taken  down  ; 
and  then  all  four  were  reconstructed,  but  with  an  exchange  of  posi- 
tion—  the  broader  ones  were  set  next  the  angle-piers,  opposite  the 
ends  of  the  nave-aisles,  and  the  narrow  ones  were  inserted  where  the 
broader  ones  had  stood.  Later  on,  when  the  choir  was  rebuilt,  ex- 
actly the  same  thing  was  done  again  ;  and  all  four  small  arches  were 
then  walled  up,  the  better  to  support  the  new  and  massive  tower.  The 
result  may  be  seen  in  the  picture  on  page  339.  In  the  pier-arcade 
there  is  first  a  wide  arch,  then  a  narrow  one  walled  up,  and  then  two 
wide  ones  again ;  and  in  the  triforium  and  clearstory  the  original 
arrangement  survives  —  first  a  narrow  compartment,  and  then  three 
wider  ones. 

Although  the  four  narrow  arches  were  walled  up,  the  vast  weight  of 
the  Perpendicular  tower  had  disastrous  results.  All  the  four  great 
angle-piers,  we  are  told,  "  sank  bodily  into  the  ground  to  a  depth  of 

1  An  Early  English  capital  from  the  north  transept-arm  of  York  forms  the  initial  to  this  chapter. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York. 


339 


eight  inches,"  and  this  means,  of  course,  that  they  no  longer  stood 
quite  erect,  and  that  adjacent  walls  and  arches  were  dislocated  too. 
The  damage  has  been  partially  concealed  by  repairs,  but  it  is  still 
almost  alarmingly  apparent. 


THE  NORTH  TRANSEPT-ARM,  FROM  THE  NAVE. 


340  Eiig/is/i  (  athcihab. 


IV 

The  nave  of  Lichfield  was  begun  in  the  year  1250,  and  the  nave  of 
York  in  1291.  Both  exhibit  the  Decorated  st)le  in  its  geometrical 
phase ;  but  the  later  date  of  the  work  at  York  speaks  from  the  treat- 
ment of  the  triforium.  It  is  not  reduced  to  a  mere  balustraded  walk, 
such  as  we  found  in  tlie  choir  of  Lichfield,  which  was  begun  about  the 
year  1325,  when  the  Decorated  style  had  passed  into  its  flowing 
phase.  But  the  transformation  has  begun;  the  old  coupled  arches 
have  given  place  to  a  range  of  equal  openings  which,  although  still 
large,  no  longer  form  a  story  of  equal  importance  with  those  above  and 
below  it.  As  a  whole  the  design  of  the  nave  is  not  very  ornate,  judged 
by  the  standard  of  its  time,  and  the  structural  proportions  are  such 
that  it  looks  rather  thin  and  poor.  But  it  is  taller  than  any  other  nave 
we  have  seen,  rising  to  a  height  of  ninety-two  feet,  and  it  is  a  little 
broader  also,  and  thus  it  gains  unusual  dignity.  Yet  even  the  broad- 
est English  churches  look  very  narrow  when  compared  with  French 
ones.  The  difference  in  this  respect  is,  indeed,  quite  as  marked  as 
that  difference  in  height  to  which  I  have  more  often  referred. 

In  France  the  central  alley  and  the  aisles  were  always  much  wider 
than  in  Fngland  ;  as  the  Gothic  style  developed,  a  second  pair  of 
aisles  was  usually  added  beyond  the  first  pair  —  if  not  in  the  nave,  at 
all  events  in  the  choir;  and  lateral  chapels  were  often  formed  by 
inclosing  the  spaces  between  the  deep  buttresses.  When  we  enter 
an  English  church  after  coming  from  the  Continent,  we  feel  almost  as 
much  cramped  and  oppressed  by  the  nearness  of  its  walls  as  by  the  low 
sweep  of  its  vaulted  ceiling;  and  there  is  a  closer  connection  between 
its  narrowness  and  its  lowness  than  may  at  first  thought  appear. 

In  the  first  place,  a  degree  of  height  which  the  eye  may  accept  in  a 
very  narrow  church  would  be  intolerable  in  a  broad  one ;  York  itself 
gives  proof  that  even  a  small  increase  in  the  width  of  the  central  alley 
required  the  raising  of  the  ceiling.  Then,  of  course,  there  could  be 
no  lateral  chapels  where,  to  form  their  partition  walls  and  to  suggest 
their  inclosure,  there  were  none  of  those  deep  buttresses  which  very 
tall  clearstories  prescribed.  And  finally,  an  aisle  tall  enough  to  admit 
with  good  effect  of  another  beyond  it  would  have  required  a  loftier 
pier-arcade  than  Englishmen  liked  to  build,  and  this  would  naturally 
have  involved,  for  the  sake  of  good  proportions,  a  corresponding  in- 
crease in  the  altitude  of  the  upper  walls.  An  eye  which  understands 
architectural  drawings  does    not   need    to  compare   cross-sections  of 


The  Cathedyal  of  St.  Peter — York.  341 

French  and  English  cathedrals  to  realize  which  nation  was  the  bolder 
builder.  It  can  decide  the  question  by  comparing  ground-plans  only; 
for  it  will  know  that  churches  as  broad  as  the  French  ones  must  be 
very  tall,  and  that,  being  very  tall,  they  could  not  stand  without  a  dar- 
ingly scientific  system  of  buttresses.  But  even  an  untrained  eye,  when 
it  sees  how  far  into  the  air  spring  the  flying-buttresses  of  France,  and 
how  widely  they  extend  to  span  the  doubled  aisles  and  find  firm  foot- 
ing beyond  them,  can  gauge  the  relative  constructional  timidity  of 
English  architects.  Of  course  we  cannot  positively  say  whether  it  was 
conscious  timidity,  deliberately  deciding  that,  in  spite  of  the  greater 
beauty  which  might  result,  it  would  not  attempt  very  tall  walls  and 
very  wide  vaults ;  or  whether  it  was  unconscious,  merely  expressing  an 
instincti\-e  national  preference  for  lowness  and  narrowness  combined 
with  immense  length.  But  in  either  case  it  was  timidity  —  if  not 
timidity  of  hand,  then  timidity  of  imagination.  And  we  are  once 
more  inclined  to  think  that  timidity  of  hand  was  responsible,  to  a 
certain  degree  at  least,  for  English  proportions,  when  we  find  that 
the  ceilings  of  both  nave  and  choir  at  York  have  always  been  vaults 
of  wood,  not  stone. 

The  least  satisfactory  part  of  this  nave  is  its  western  end.  In  the 
centre  is  a  door  with  a  traceried  head  and  a  gable  which  rises  quite 
to  the  sill  of  the  great  window,  while  the  top  of  this  window  touches 
the  apex  of  the  vaulting.  A  cornice-string,  continuing  the  window- 
sill  to  right  and  left,  divides  each  lateral  field  of  wall  into  two  parts; 
and  though  the  whole  surface  of  these  fields  is  covered  with  a  rich 
paneling  of  traceried  and  canopied  niches  (once  filled  with  small 
figures),  there  is  a  marked  difference  in  design  between  the  portions 
above  and  below  the  string.  The  strong  horizontal  division  which  is 
thus  created  detracts  as  much  from  unity  as  from  verticality  of  effect. 
There  is  no  relationship  between  the  window  and  the  door;  the  one  is 
merely  superimposed  upon  the  other,  and  they  hardly  seem  to  form 
parts  of  a  single  architectural  conception.  And  the  window  is  much 
too  large  in  comparison  with  the  door,  and  its  gracefully  arched  head 
does  not  harmonize  with  the  obtuser  arch  formed  close  above  it  by  the 
end  of  the  ceiling  as  it  abuts  against  the  wall. 

It  is  a  pity  indeed  that  so  admirable  a  window  should  thus  look  as 
though  it  had  been  intended  for  some  other  situation.  It  is  much  the 
finest  window  in  England,  and  there  can  be  none  in  the  world  more 
beautiful.  Built  between  13 17  and  1340,  it  marks  the  apogee  of  the 
Decorated  style,  when  geometrical  had  been  developed  into  flowing 
22* 


342 


English   C  \ithcdyals. 


traceries  but  had  not  )ct  stiffened  into  the  least  approach  to  Perpen- 
dicular types.  It  contains  slight  suggestions  of  the  Flamboyant  forms 
of  France;  but  it  is  not  a  Flamboyant  window:   it  is  a  typical  and 


THE   NAVE,   FkO.M     lilt.    NOR  111    AlsLh. 


perfect  example  of  the  flowing  Decorated  style.  Eight  tall,  narrow 
lifdits  are  finished  as  eight  little  equal  trefoiled  arches  ;  above  these 
the  delicate  rising  lines  develop  first  into  four  groups  of  two  arches 


Tlie  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York.  343 

each,  and  next  into  two  groups  of  four  arches  each,  while  flowing  lines 
then  diverge  to  form  a  heart-shaped  figure  in  the  centre  oi  the  win- 
dow-head, supporting  another  of  smaller  size,  and  supported  on  either 
hand  by  an  egg-shaped  figure.  All  the  lines  which  form  these  figures 
and  fill  them  with  lace-like  traceries  are  beautifully  adapted  to  the 
spaces  which  contain  them,  and  each  is  vitally  dependent  upon  the 
others  for  its  own  effect.  The  only  Decorated  window  in  England 
that  is  ever  compared  with  York's  for  beauty  is  the  east  window  of 
Carlisle  Cathedral ;  and  no  one  can  make  even  this  comparison  who 
appreciates  the  essentials  of  architectural  design.  At  York  the  entire 
window  is  a  unit  in  conception  and  effect,  despite  its  multitude  of 
parts;  but  at  Carlisle  the  main  mullions  are  so  disposed  that  we  seem 
to  see,  under  the  great  arch  of  the  head,  two  narrow  windows  placed 
side  by  side,  with  a  still  narrower  one  between  them.  The  Carlisle 
window  is  beautiful,  but  not  so  beautiful  as  the  one  at  York,  and  it  is 
by  many  degrees  less  excellent  as  a  logical  piece  of  design.  Cor- 
rectly speaking,  the  York  window  is  a  modern  work,  for  it  was  en- 
tirely rebuilt  some  years  ago ;  but  the  original  was  carefully  copied 
stone  by  stone,  and  its  ancient  glass  was  reset. 


v 

The  four  Norman  piers  which  had  supported  the  tower  were  kept 
as  cores  by  the  Perpendicular  builders,  and  merely  covered  with 
masonry  to  correspond  with  the  new  work  in  nave  and  choir.  The 
powerful  connecting  arches  are  singularly  graceful  in  shape;  between 
their  tops  and  the  great  windows  of  the  lantern  runs  a  rich  arcade ; 
and  the  vaulting  of  the  lantern,  a  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above 
the  floor,  is  also  very  elaborate  —  a  network  of  delicate  lines  like 
interwoven  tendrils. 

The  screen  which  shuts  off  the  main  alley  of  the  choir  is  the  most 
splendid  that  remains  in  England.  It  dates  from  the  year  1500,  and 
still  bears  most  of  its  sculptured  figures,  chief  among  them  a  series 
representing  the  kings  of  England  from  William  1.  to  Henry  VI. 
Lower  and  less  massive  screens  shut  off  the  aisles  of  the  choir ;  and, 
thus  separated  from  the  rest  of  the  church,  the  central  alley  of  the  east 
limb  suffices  for  the  usual  needs  of  Protestant  worshipers.  A  pulpit 
has  been  set  up  in  the  nave  for  occasional  preaching,  but.  in  general, 
nave  and  transept  are  abandoned  to  the  sight-seer's  whispering  voice 
a.nd  the  memories  of  a  banished  faith. 


344 


Eiiglis/i  Catlicdyals. 


Within  the  screens  the  real  majesty  of  York  Minster  first  bursts 
upon  the  eye.  This  is  much  the  longest  east  limb  in  England,  absorb- 
ing almost  half  the  length  of  the  church,  and  measuring  223, 'j  feet, 
while  Lincoln's  measures  only  158.     The  more  easterly  part,  forming 


A^M 


1  ;.(>.}  I  ,K 


VSi. 


S^ii^' 


i^.r 


.! 


THE  CHOIR-SCREEN. 


the  presbytery  and  retrochoir,  was  begun  in  1361,  and  the  choir  proper 
about  1380.  But  although  the  whole  east  limb  thus  belongs  to  the 
Perpendicular  period,  the  resemblance  between  it  and  the  Decorated 


The  Caf/icdml  of  Sf.  Peter— York. 


545 


nave  is  much  greater  than  that  between  the  early  Decorated  nave  of 
Lichfield  and  its  late  Decorated  choir.  The  fact  is  partially  ex- 
plained, of  course,  by  that  change  in  the  treatment  of  the  triforium 
which  occurred  during  the  Decorated  period ;  but  there  is  a  closer 
degree  of  concord  than  can  thus  be  accounted  for.      I  have  just  said 


THE  SOUTH   AISLE  OF   THE  PRESBYTERY,  LOOKING   WEST. 


that  in  the  nave  the  triforium  shows  only  a  first  step  toward  that  final 
result  which  meant  its  virtual  absorption  by  the  clearstory;  but  in  the 
Perpendicular  choir  the  design  is  still  essentially  the  same.  Written 
documents  fortunately  remain  to  tell  us  why.  A  resolution,  passed  by 
the  archbishop  and  cathedral  chapter,  and  dated  in  1361,  the  year 
when  the  first  part  of  the  Perpendicular  work  was  begun,  declared 
that  '•  every  church  should  have  its  different  parts  consistently  deco- 
rated." It  was  wholly  impossible  for  medijeval  men,  no  matter  who 
commanded  them,  to  decorate  in  a  consistent  way  the  work  of  dif- 
ferent epochs,  if  the  word  "  decorate "  is  taken  in  anything  like  its 
modern  sense :  they  could  repeat  neither  the  treatment  nor  the  orna- 
mentation of  their  forerunners.      But,  if  thej-  tried,  they  could  take  up 


346  English   Cdf/icdrals. 

their  forerunners'  fundamental  scheme  and  repeat  it  with  minor  fea- 
tures and  details  of  their  own.  This  we  have  seen  done  in  the  choir 
at  Ely  ;  and  exactly  this  was  done  in  the  east  limb  of  York,  where, 
although  all  the  details  are  Perpendicular,  the  structural  conception  — 
in  the  later  as  in  the  earlier  portions  —  proves  a  pious  desire  to  obey 
the  injunction  of  archbishop  and  chapter.  The  mere  fact  that  this  in- 
junction was  given  shows  that  it  e.xpressed  a  point  of  view  which  was 
exceptional  in  the  fourteenth  century.  In  the  nineteenth  century  it 
would  not  be  exceptional.  No  architect  would  now  need  to  be  told  to 
consider  his  predecessors'  work  when  completing  an  important  church. 

The  design  which  looked  cold  and  somewhat  uninteresting  in  the 
nave  looks  superb  and  splendid  in  the  choir,  where  rich  work  in  panel- 
ing, tracery,  and  sculptured  ornament  abounds.  Indeed,  it  is  actually 
better  here  than  in  the  nave,  for  the  piers  are  more  closely  set  and  the 
arches  they  carry  are  acutcr  in  form,  and  therefore  the  effect  is  less 
thin  and  emin\-.  Many  elaborate  tombs  remain  in  the  presbytery  and 
retrochoir,  and  the  aspect  of  their  aisles,  as  we  see  in  the  picture  on 
page  345,  is  exceptionally  ornate. 

Although  at  York,  as  at  Salisbur\,  Lincoln,  and  Canterbur)-,  there  is 
a  second  transept  lying  between  the  choir  proper  and  the  presbytery, 
here  it  does  not  siiow  on  the  ground  plan,  for  each  of  its  arms  is  com- 
posed of  only  a  single  bay,  which  does  not  project  beyond  the  line  of 
the  aisle-walls.  Nevertheless,  it  is  designed  as  are  other  transepts:  a 
tall  arch,  rising  to  the  ceilinij-,  lircaks  the  loniif  three-storied  wall  on 
either  side  of  the  choir,  and  a  window  of  equal  height  rises  in  the  aisle- 
wall  far  above  the  aisle-roofs  (as  we  see  in  ilu'  picture  of  tlic  exterior 
on  page  350),  while  between  arch  and  window,  along  each  side  of 
the  short  transept-arm,  are  carried  three  stories  similar  to  those  of  the 
choir.  The  shortness  of  the  second  transept  at  York  only  increases  its 
effectiveness,  relieving  Init  not  distur]:)ing  tlie  perspective  of  the  choir, 
and  bringing  the  immense  transept-windows  into  sight  from  quite  dis- 
tant points  of  view.  These  windows  are  immense  indeed,  even  when 
compared  with  the  giant  at  the  east  end  of  the  church  ;  and  owing  to 
their  presence  this  giant  does  not  seem  such  an  alien  feature  as  the 
large  end-window  of  Lincoln.  With  the  exception  of  the  east  window 
of  Gloucester,  this  one  at  York  is  the  biggest  in  the  world  —  seventy- 
three  feet  in  height  and  thirty-three  in  width.  Contrasting  it  with  its 
far-off  rival  at  the  west  end  of  the  Minster,  we  clearly  .see  the  differ- 
ence between  Perpendicular  and  Decorated  traceries ;  and  the  east 
window  of  the  aisle  (which  we  see  beside  its  great  neighbor  in  the  illus- 


TJic  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter— York. 


347 


\ti 


THE  EAST   END,    FROM   THE  NORTH   AISLE  OF   THE   RETROCHOIR. 


348  E)ig/is/i  Cathedrals. 

tration  on  page  347)  explains  the  transition  from  the  one  style  to  the 
other.  Just  beneath  the  great  window  stood  the  Virgin's  altar,  for  the 
retrochoir  was  the  Lady-chapel  at  York. 


VI 

Perhaps  nothing  in  all  England  makes  so  strong  an  impression  on 
the  tourist  as  the  interior  of  \'urk  ;  and  if  he  could  see  only  one  English 
cathedral,  and  wished  to  get  a  full  idea  of  the  splendor  and  meaning 
of  mediaeval  art,  he  would  not  go  astray  in  coming  here.  Yet,  struc- 
turally considered,  other  English  interiors  are  more  individual,  more 
beautiful,  more  imposing,  even;  and  many  others  are  more  interesting 
to  the  serious  student's  eye.  York  holds  its  paramount  place  as  an 
exponent  of  mediaeval  art  simply  because  its  ancient  glass  is  almost  all 
intact.  Most  English  cathedrals  have  been  entirely  reduced  to  archi- 
tectural bone  and  sinew;  they  lack  decorative  warmth  and  glow,  life 
and  color,  and  the  charm  that  lies  in  those  myriad  accessory  things 
which  the  lingering  faith  of  Rome  has  preserved  in  other  lands.  All 
the  varied  tools  and  trappings,  altars,  shrines,  and  symbolic  trophit's  of 
the  rich  Catholic  ritual  have  been  banished;  much  of  the  furniture  is 
gone;  the  walls  are  bare  of  paint;  scores  of  monuments  and  chantries 
have  been  shattered  to  bits;  thousands  of  sculptured  ornaments  and 
figures  have  been  swept  away  in  dust;  a  painful  cleanliness  has  re- 
placed the  time-stains  which  give  tone  to  many  Continental  churches 
even  when  no  actual  coloring  exists;  and  a  glare  of  white  light  or 
hideous  discord  of  modern  hues  fills  the  enormous  windows.  Columns 
and  walls  and  floors  are  as  barren  at  York  as  elsewhere,  and,  although 
many  tombs  remain,  without  its  glass  it  would  seem  even  colder  and 
emptier  than  most  of  its  sisters,  for  it  was  built  at  a  time  when  walls 
of  glass  had  nearly  replaced  walls  of  stone.  But  it  has  its  glass  ;  and 
this  means  much  more  than  that  it  has  a  richness  of  decorative  effect 
which  no  other  English  church  displays.  It  means  that  here  alone  we 
can  really  apprehend  the  effect  of  a  late  Gothic  church,  even  from  the 
architectural  point  of  view. 

Not  all  the  windows  contain  old  glass,  nor  is  the  old  glass  which 
remains  always  in  its  original  positions;  but  the  exceptions  are  few, 
and  the  most  conspicuous  results  of  modern  manufacture  fill  the  small 
lancets  above  the  Five  Sisters  and  those  in  the  opposite  end  of  the 
great  transept.  In  one  or  two  of  the  nave-windows  parts  of  the  glass 
are  even  earlier  than  that  in  the  Five  Sisters,  dating  from  about  1200, 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York.  349 

and  having  been  preserved,  of  course,  from  the  earlier  cathedral;  and, 
beginning  with  these,  we  can  follow  the  development  of  the  art 
through  a  period  of  four  full  centuries.  More  delicate,  clear,  and  ex- 
quisite fields  of  simple  color  can  never  have  been  wrought  than  those 
which  fill  the  Five  Sisters  with  their  sea-green  purity.  The  west  win- 
dow, glazed  a  century  later  (about  1350),  is  a  gorgeous  mosaic  of  ruddy 
and  purple  hues,  shining,  in  the  intricate  stone  pattern  which  shows 
black  against  the  light,  like  a  million  amethysts  and  rubies  set  in 
ebony  lace.  The  multicolored  eastern  window  and  its  two  mates  in 
the  minor  transept  seem  vast  and  fair  enough  for  the  walls  of  the  New 
Jerusalem.  And  wherever  we  look  in  the  lightly  constructed  eastern 
limb,  it  seems,  not  as  though  walls  had  been  pierced  for  windows,  but 
as  though  radiant  translucent  screens  —  fragile  yet  vital  and  well  equal 
to  their  task  —  had  been  used  to  build  a  church,  and  merely  bound 
together  with  a  network  of  solid  stone.  For  the  moment  we  feel  that 
nothing  in  the  world  is  so  beautiful  as  glass,  and  here  we  are  quite 
right.  But  we  also  feel  that  no  glass  in  the  world  can  be  more 
beautiful  than  this,  and  here  we  are  mistaken. 

If  we  know  French  glass  of  the  best  periods,  we  remember  it,  when 
the  passage  of  first  emotions  has  left  us  cool  enough  to  think,  as  being 
still  more  wonderful.  In  these  pages  it  would  be  as  impossible  to  dis- 
cuss all  the  differences  between  French  and  English  glass  as  to  analyze 
all  the  varieties  produced  in  England,  or  to  describe  the  patterns 
which  are  before  us  at  York,  blending  at  a  distance  into  a  Persian 
vagueness  of  design,  but  revealing  themselves  as  interesting  pictures 
when  seen  close  at  hand.  Merely  this  may  be  said :  blue  is  the  most 
brilliant  of  all  colors  in  a  translucent  state,  the  one  which  gives  stained 
glass  a  quality  most  unlike  that  of  opaque  pigments ;  and  blue  is  more 
profusely  used  in  the  best  French  glass  than  any  other  color,  while  in 
England  it  rarely  dominates  in  a  design,  and  is  often  almost  wholly 
suppressed  in  favor  of  green,  red,  yellow,  and  brownish  tones.  There 
is  infinite  clarity  and  pure  splendor  in  the  west  window  of  York,  in 
spite  of  the  dominance  of  its  red  and  purple  notes,  the  insignificance 
of  its  blue  ones;  but  at  a  later  period,  when  the  choir  was  glazed,  the 
tone  of  English  glass  had  grown  rather  soft  and  thick.  Too  many 
brownish  notes  are  introduced,  and  the  general  quality  is  a  little 
oleaginous  or  treacle-like  —  is  less  clear,  sparkling,  gem-like  than  the 
quality  of  stained  glass  should  be.  To  my  mind  the  very  best  English 
windows  are  apt  to  be  those  of  a  late  Perpendicular  time,  when  the 
background,  formed  of  architectural  motives,  is  softly  grayish  in  tone 


o50 


Eiig/ish  Cathedrals. 


and  throws  out  in  exquisite  relief  the  brilliant  tints  of  the  many  sepa- 
rate little  figures  which  the  reticulated  traceries  required.  Thus  is 
fashioned  the  tremendous  east  window  of  Gloucester,  and  architectural 
vigor  is  greatly  promoted  by  the  way  in  which  its  brighter  notes  of 
color  are  distributed,  red  and  blue  alternately  forming  conspicuous 
vertical  lines  between  the  mullions.      But  glass  of  this  sort  —  pale,  and 


THE   SOUTH    SmE   OF   THE   MINSTER. 


merely  diapered  with  strong  tones  —  does  not  show  the  full  splendor 
that  the  material  can  compass.  For  really  royal  splendor  which  affects 
us  like  organ-music  and  is  inimitable  by  any  opaque  pigments,  we 
must  look  to  windows  where  the  whole  expanse  is  a  rapture  of  gor- 
geous hues,  a  dazzling  harmony  of  blues  and  crimsons  and  purples 
and  greens  and  jellows,  separated  by  fine  white  lines  of  which  the  eye 
scarcely  takes  account,  but  which  keep  the  designs  distinct. 

Yet  there  are  some  very  perfect  examples  of  glass  at  York,  and,  as  a 
whole,  the  effect  is  magnificent,  and  amply  explains  the  part  wdiich  the 
glazier  played  as  the  architect's  indispensable  assistant.  After  we  have 
seen  it  we  never  think  again  that  stained  glass  was  merely  an  adorn- 
ment of  Gothic  architecture.  We  realize  that  it  was  so  truly  an 
architectural  factor  that  the  character  of  the  Gothic  evolution  cannot 
be  rightly  understood  if  a  church  is  thought  of  as  a  skeleton  of  stone 
and  nothing  more.     We  must  not  go  to  extremes :   we  must  not  say, 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York.  351 

as  often  has  been  said,  that  glass-painting  created  Gothic  archi- 
tecture— that  pressures  were  concentrated  and  walls  suppressed,  be- 
cause larger  windows  were  wanted,  and  that  larger  windows  were 
wanted  for  the  sake  of  getting  more  glass.  I  have  already  explained 
that  constructional  revolutions  always  begin  with  new  constructional 
needs  and  ambitions.  Yet  it  is  just  as  true  that,  once  a  revolution  has 
got  under  way,  it  may  be  supported  and  stimulated  by  purely  aesthetic 
desires.  Gothic  architects  gradually  evolved  their  new  structural 
scheme  because  they  could  most  easily  and  cheaply  build  large  vaulted 
churches  in  that  way ;  but,  once  the  aesthetic  possibilities  of  the  scheme 
were  perceived,  every  favoring  external  influence  accelerated  and 
broadened  its  development;  and  by  far  the  most  potent  influence  was 
the  development  of  glass-painting. 

The  early  Gothic  architect  demanded  for  his  enlarged  windows  some 
filling  which,  as  decoration,  would  take  the  place  of  the  wide  frescos  of 
former  times,  and  which,  from  the  constructional  point  of  view-,  would 
justify  to  the  eye  that  partial  suppression  of  walls  which  he  knew  to  be 
scientifically  right.  This  filling  the  early  glass-painter  gave  him:  and 
it  was  so  satisfying  from  the  architectural  standpoint,  and  so  beautiful 
from  the  decorative,  that  he  was  ready  and  eager  to  carry  on  his  archi- 
tectural evolution  to  the  farthest  possible  extreme;  he  felt  that  he  could 
attenuate  his  constructional  framework  as  far  as  the  laws  of  gravity 
would  permit,  since  the  glazier  stood  ready  to  replace  really  solid  wall- 
spaces  by  those  which  looked  solid  enough  and  were  more  beautiful 
than  any  expanses  of  stone  had  ever  been.  No  architect  w^ould  have 
built  as  late  Gothic  architects  did  if  only  white  glass  had  been  at  his 
command.  None  would  have  made  walls  which  are  literally  windows 
unless  strength  of  color  had  come  forward  to  simulate  strength  of  sub- 
stance. .A.  Perpendicular  church  was  actually  meant  to  look  as  the 
choir  of  York  does  look — like  a  vast  translucent  tabernacle  merely 
ribbed  and  braced  with  stone.  To  remove  its  grlass  thus  means  a  orfeat 
deal  more  than  to  destroy  its  decorative  charm  ;  it  means  to  mutilate 
even  the  architectural  conception.  Such  a  church  without  its  glass  is 
like  a  "skeletonized"  leaf  robbed  of  its  thin  but  rich  screen  tissues. 


VIT 

The  chapter-house  at  York  stands  in  its  proper  collegiate  position, 
and  we  enter  it  through  a  vestibule  where  an  abrupt  turn  brings  it  very 
effectively  into  view.    In  date  and  style  it  corresponds  with  the  nave,  and 


352  Eiiglisli  Catlicdmls. 

is  earlier  than  the  west  front.  Above  the  canons'  bench,  which  is  sur- 
mounted by  a  range  of  tall  elaborate  canopies,  seven  of  the  eight  sides 
are  filled  by  large  windows  with  fine  geometrical  traceries,  in  the 
eighth  side  a  double  doorway  is  divided  by  a  clustered  column  sup- 
porting two  trefoiled  arches  which  rise  as  high  as  the  canopies  of  the 
seats ;  and  the  upper  wall  is  covered  with  blank  traceries  repeating 
those  in  the  windows.  There  is  no  central  ])ier  to  sustain  the  vaulting. 
Borne  by  great  groups  of  shafts  which  spring  from  the  floor  in  the  eight 
corners  of  the  room,  it  makes  a  clear  sweep  of  more  than  fifty  feet  from 
wall  to  wall,  sixty-seven  feet  above  our  heads. 

Near  the  door  in  this  chapter-house  is  painted  a  Latin  verse  which 
says  tliat  its  rank  among  chapter-houses  is  like  the  rank  of  the  rose 
among  flowers.  Probably  many  visitors  will  think  that  the  boast  reads 
none  too  boastfully,  for  the  room  is  very  well  proportioned,  and  is  un- 
usually consistent  as  a  piece  of  truly  Gothic  design.  But  to  the  taste 
of  many  others,  1  think,  even  so  harmonious,  light,  and  graceful  a 
chapter-house  as  this  may  seem  less  interesting  than  one  where  a  cen- 
tral pier,  with  its  branching  streams  of  ribs,  "  like  a  foamy  sheaf  of  foun- 
tains rises  through  the  painted  air."  And  the  impression  it  makes  upon 
the  mind,  if  not  upon  the  eye,  is  weakened,  of  course,  when  we  remem- 
ber that  its  airy-looking  vault  is  not  constructed  of  stone. 

Nowhere  at  York  is  the  ancient  glass  more  deeply  splendid,  more 
radiantly  fair,  than  in  this  room  and  the  dim  and  solemn  vestibule.  If 
only  its  influence  might  be  felt  apart  from  the  teasing  drone  of  the  ver- 
ger's ex[)lanations  !  Gain  his  favor  by  patient  listening  at  first,  and 
he  may  consent  to  leave  you  to  beauty  and  silence  while  he  takes 
his  troo])  back  into  the  church.  But  after  a  moment  he  will  be  with 
you  again,  the  troop  a  new  one  but  the  drone  the  same,  and  the  pom- 
pous gesture  which  accents  the  final  words:  "67  rosa /los Jlornni,  sic 
est  domus  ista  domorum." 

VIII 

TiiK  story  of  the  Archbishops  of  Canterl)ury  means  the  story  of 
their  nation ;  but  through  the  centuries  when  they  were  at  their 
greatest,  their  titular  town  lay  quietl\-  outside  the  scenes  in  which 
they  figured.  Not  so  with  York.  The  focus  of  life  in  the  north  of 
England,  its  name  comes  constantly  to  the  historian's  lips,  and 
countless   famous  Englishmen  there  did  famous  deeds. 

If  we  credit  local  legends  we  may  believe  that  it  was  already  in  ex- 
istence when  King  David  reigned  in  Israel:  but  its  clear  history  as  the 


The  Cathedml  of  St.  Pctcy — York.  t^z^^^ 

city  Eboracum  begins  witli  tlie  Romans  —  with  Agricola  who  subdued 
or  founded  it,  with  Severus,  the  emperor  who  died  there,  and  Geta  his 
son,  with  Constantius  Chlorus  and  Constantine  the  Great.  Then,  after 
a  century  of  darkness,  comes  the  shadowy  figure  of  Arthur  the  Briton, 
keeping  Christmas  at  Eboracum,  followed,  after  another  century  of 
conflict,  by  Edwin  the  Englishman,  whom  Paulinus  baptized.  Four 
hundred  and  fifty  years  later  comes  William  the  Norman,  the  sword 
in  one  hand,  the  torch  in  the  other;  then  Henry  II.,  receiving  homage 
from  Malcolm  of  Scotland  ;  King  John,  visiting  the  city  sixteen  times ; 
Henry  III.,  signing  his  alliance  with  one  Scottish  king  and  marrying 
his  daughter  to  another;  Edward  I.,  holding  a  parliament;  Edward 
II.,  fleeing  from  Bannockburn  ;  Edward  III.,  in  1327,  marching  against 
Robert  Bruce,  and  the  ne.xt  year  marrying  Philippa  of  Hainault  in 
the  cathedral;  Queen  Philippa,  in  1346,  going  to  that  victory  of  Nev- 
ille's Cross  which  the  monks  of  Durham  watched  from  their  tower- 
top ;  and  Richard  II.  in  1389.  In  1461  Henry  VI.  went  out  from 
York  to  the  battle  of  Towton,  and  his  conqueror  entered  it,  and  came 
again  as  Edward  IV.  for  his  coronation  in  1464.  When  this  Edward 
died  his  brother  Richard  was  at  York,  and  though  he  went  at  once  to 
London,  he  returned  for  pompous  ceremonials  while  his  nephews  were 
being  murdered  in  the  Tower.  And  Flodden  Field  sent  its  represen- 
tative in  1 5 13  — the  slain  body  of  James  IV.  of  Scotland.  York  was 
distinguished  in  the  Reformation  as  the  centre  of  the  rebellion  called 
the  "  Pilgrimage  of  Grace,"  and  it  saw  the  execution  of  its  ringleader, 
Robert  Aske,  and,  later,  the  execution  of  Northumberland,  who  led  the 
Catholic  revolt  in  the  time  of  Elizabeth.  In  1640  Charles  I.  sum- 
moned a  council  of  peers  at  York,  hither  removed  his  court  in  1642, 
and  here  welcomed  his  wife  when  she  brought  him  supplies  from 
France.  In  1644  the  city  was  invested  by  Fairfax,  with  Cromwell 
serving  as  a  lieutenant  in  his  army.  Prince  Rupert's  arrival  raised 
the  siege,  but  after  the  battle  of  Marston  Moor  the  city  surrendered 
to  the  Parliamentary  forces.^  Thus  the  two  bloodiest  battles  ever 
fought  by  Englishmen  against  Englishmen  were  fought  within  sight 
of  York  —  Towton  and  Marston  Moor  ;  and  up  to  the  time  of  the 
Restoration  no  city  except  London  knew  more  of  the  course  of 
national  life.  It  has  been  the  birthplace,  too,  of  spirits  conspicuous 
for  good  or  evil  —  not,  indeed,  as  once  was  claimed,  of  Constantine 
the  Great,  but   of  Alcuin,  the   famous  scholar  and   friend  of  Charle- 

1  Members  of  the  Fairfax  family  were  put  in  charge  of  York  by  the  Parhamentary  party,  and  to  them 
the  minster  owes  its  preservation  from  the  ruin  which  was  worked  elsewhere. 
23 


354  Eng/is/i    Cathedrals. 

magnc ;  of  Walthcof,  Earl  of  Northumberland,  "hero  and  niari\r  of 
England,  .  .  .  the  valiant  and  devout  who  died  by  the  sword  at  the 
bidding  of  Norman  judges"  on  the  hill  near  Winchester;  of  Guy 
Fawkes;  of  Flaxman  the  sculptor,  Etty  the  painter,  and  the  astro- 
nomical Earl  of  Rosse ;  of  George  Hudson,  king  of  the  railwa)-,  and 
of  a  host  of  sapient  dry-as-dusts. 

Then,  on  the  roll  of  York's  prelates,  what  a  famous  company!  —  Pau- 
linus;  St.  Chad,  the  great  founder  of  Lichfield,  who  was  not  an  arch- 
l)ishop,  but  for  a  while  was  bishop  at  York  ;  St.  John  of  Beverley, 
rivaled  in  sanctity  on  this  northern  soil  by  no  one  e.xcept  St.  Cuthbert 
of  Durham;  Egbert,  to  whom  the  "  History"  of  Bede  w^as  dedicated; 
and  Ealdred,  the  friend  of  Edward  the  Confessor  and  then  of  the  rebel 
Tostig.  As  the  appointment  of  Stigand  to  the  throne  of  Canterbury 
hail  been  pronounced  irregular,  this  Ealdred  placed  the  crown  of  Eng- 
land on  Harold's  head,  in  the  same  year  on  William's,  and  two  years 
later  on  Matilda's ;  and  then  he  died  of  a  broken  heart  because  of  the 
ruin  which  the  Conquest  wrought  in  Yorkshire.  Surely,  no  more  ex- 
pressive figure  could  have  closed  the  line  of  the  ante-Norman  primates 
of  the  north. 

The  Norman  line  begins,  as  I  have  told,  with  Thomas  of  Bayeux, 
rebuilder  of  the  cathedral  church.  The  third  who  followed  him  was 
Thurstan,  conspicuous  in  the  struggles  of  York  against  Canterbury  and 
of  the  monastic  against  the  secular  clergy,  and  conspicuous,  too,  in  the 
wars  against  the  Scot — mounting  the  banners  of  St.  Peter  of  York,  St. 
John  of  Beverley,  St.  Wilfrid  of  Ripon,  and  St.  Cuthbert  of  Durham  on 
a  cart,  and  leading  them  to  the  great  victory  called  the  "  Battle  of  the 
Standards."  He  died  in  1140,  having  given  up  mitre  and  sword  to 
become  a  monk  at  Cluny ;  and  he  was  followed  by  W^illiam  Fitzher- 
bert,  a  descendant  of  the  Conqueror,  who  was  canonized  as  St.  William 
of  York.  Fitzherbert  had  once  saved  hundreds  of  lives  by  a  miracle 
when  a  bridge  fell  into  the  Ouse;  but  miracles  were  plent\-  in  those 
days,  and  we  can  hardly  understand  why  he  w^as  canonized  until  we 
read  how  earnestly  the  cathedral  chapter  desired  it,  and  how  his  friend 
Anthony  Bek,  the  mighty  Prince-Bishop  of  Durham,  used  "money  and 
urofent  entreaties"  to  effect  it.  The  cathedral  of  York  was  dedicated 
to  St.  Peter,  and  so  it  needed  another  patron  ;  for  a  great  twelfth- 
century  house  could  scarcely  be  content  to  share  a  saint  with  the 
Avorld  at  large.  It  wanted  one  for  its  very  own.  It  wanted  a  private 
collection  of  bones  and  legends  for  purposes  of  grace  and  pomp  and 
revenue.      And  therefore  York  rejoiced  when  William  Fitzherbert  was 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Petcy — York.  355 

sainted;  his  body  was  fittingly  enshrined,  in  later  years  was  translated 
into  the  new  presbytery,  and,  we  may  hope,  faithfully  did  its  part 
toward   paying  for  its  resting-place. 

After  Fitzherbert  came  Roger  de  Pont  I'Eveque,  whom  Becket 
called  all  manner  of  names  because  he  took  the  side  of  King  Henry, 
and  whom  Becket's  friends  afterward  accused  of  complicity  in  his  mur- 
der. Roger  was  no  saint,  as  we  feel  when  we  recognize  him  in  the 
hero  of  a  familiar  anecdote:  he  was  the  York  who  indignantly  plumped 
himself  down  in  Canterbury's  lap  when  the  southern  primate  took  the 
seat  of  honor  in  a  council  at  Westminster,  and  was  thereupon  hounded 
away  to  the  cry,  "Betrayer  of  St.  Thomas,  his  blood  is  upon  thy 
hands!"  But,  although  no  saint,  he  was  probably  no  assassin;  and  he 
was  certainly  a  great  scholar  and  a  great  builder — constructing,  among 
many  other  things,  the  new  Norman  choir  of  his  cathedral. 

Roger  was  followed  by  Geoffrey  Plantagenet,  the  reputed  son  of 
King  Henry  and  Fair  Rosamond.  Then  we  read  of  De  Grey,  the 
friend  of  King  John  in  his  struggle  with  the  people;  and  then — with 
lesser  men  between  them  —  of  Greenfield  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.;  of 
Melton  in  the  reign  of  Edward  II.,  when  York  was  for  a  time  the  real 
capital  of  England;  and,  from  1352  to  1373,  of  Thoresby,  who  built  the 
presbytery  of  his  church,  and  accepted  with  thanks  the  title  of  "Pri- 
mate of  England."  In  1398,  Scroope,  who  is  the  York  of  Shak- 
spere's  "Henry  IV.,"  was  consecrated.  In  1464  there  came  to  the 
chair  a  Neville  who  played  a  prominent  part  in  the  Wars  of  the  Roses, 
but  is  better  remembered  for  a  feast  he  gave,  when  three  hundred  and 
thirty  tuns  of  beer  and  a  hundred  and  four  tuns  of  wine  were  drunk, 
and  when  everything  in  the  world  was  eaten,  down  to  "four  porpoises 
and  eight  seals."  And  in  15 14  came  the  most  famous  primate  of  all  — 
Wolsey  the  cardinal,  who  at  first  held  Durham's  see  with  York's,  and 
then,  giving  up  Durham's,  held  Winchester's  with  York's,  and  after  his 
disgrace  came  back  to  live  near  York  and  to  die  at  Leicester. 


IX 

Ix  its  ancient  walls  and  gates  and  bridges,  its  many  churches  of 
many  dates,  its  Norman  castle  and  fifteenth-century  guildhall,  the 
exquisite  ruins  of  St.  Mary's  Abbey,  the  long  low  streets  of  gabled 
timbered  houses,  and  the  splendid  archiepiscopal  palaces  and  lordly 
homes  that  dot  the  neighboring  country,  York  clearly  shows  the  tread 
of  time  from  Roman  days  to  ours,  and  the  handiwork  of  all  the  races 


356 


Iii/g/is/i  Catlicdmls. 


and  the  generations  which  have  made  it  famous.  But  there  is  no 
room  here  for  a  survey  so  extensive.  Only  a  few  words  can  be  given 
to  the  external  aspect  of  its  greatest  building. 

From  a  distance  York  Cathedral  has  by  no  means  the  beauty  of 
Lincoln.  It  stands  well,  but  not  nearly  so  well  as  Lincoln  ;  and  its 
enormous  length  is  not  supported  by  adequate  height  in  the  roofs  or 


IHK.    LAST    KNl)    AT    NIGHT. 


towers,  while  the  fact  that  this  length  is  equally  divided  between  nave 
and  choir  increases  the  monotony  of  its  sky-line.  Of  course  it  is  an 
extremely  impressive  sky-line;  but  to  my  eye  it  seemed  the  least 
beautiful  in  England,  e.xcepting  only  those  of  Winchester  and  Peter- 
borough. 

Coming  nearer,  we  still  find  that  Lincoln  need  not  fear  the  contrast. 
The  western  doorways  are  very  rich,  but  elsewhere  there  is  much  less 


TJie  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter — York. 


357 


decoration  than  at  Lincoln,  and  the  simpler  plan  gives  no  such  pictur- 
esque perspectives  or  strong  effects  of  light  and  shadow.  Nor  are  the 
towers  satisfactory  in  proportion  or  design.     They  are  very  big,  but 


'"'       '■•  -"  r,i*  III  I'll  law  S^iS.^   J   —\   '-jj^        ,    ,      N^^«HK 

-'1    <   .^.."3 


i*^^.^_ 


^«^^ 


THE  CHAPTER-HOUSE,  FIVE  SISTERS,  AND  CENTRAL  TOWER,  FROM   THE  NORTH. 


very  stumpy,  and  the  total  lack  of  finish  to  the  central  one  is  as  unfor- 
tunate as  the  exaggeration  of  the  battlements  upon  the  western  pair. 
The  south  transept-front,  however,  is  magnificent ;  one  of  the  deepest 
impressions  we  receive  in  England  is  when  we  see  it  first  through  the 
long  vista  of  the  Stonegate. 


23 


358  ENg/is/i  Cathedrals. 

The  east  end  of  the  church  is  typically  English  and  very  good  of  its 
kind.  But  it  is  not  comparable  to  those  which  date  from  that  earlier 
time  when  windows  were  smaller  and  more  multiplied  ;  for,  of  course, 
the  immense  fields  of  glass  used  by  late  Gothic  builders  are  less  happy 
in  external  than  in  internal  effect.  Passing  around  this  end,  the  chap- 
ter-house appears  in  fine  contrast  with  the  great  transept,  and  with  the 
long  reach  of  the  choir  where  the  double  range  of  apertures  is  re- 
lieved nii(Iwa\-  by  the  vast  height  of  the  window  in  thr  minor  transept. 
Whatever  we  may  think  of  its  interior,  no  chapter-house  is  so  beauti- 
ful outside  as  this  one,  with  its  well-designed  buttresses,  its  tall  coni- 
cal roof,  and  the  great  elbow  of  its  vestibule  bringing  it  into  dignified 
harmony  with  the  church.  It  looks  best  of  all  when  we  stand  to  the 
north,  on  the  wide  green  which  was  formerly  the  archbishop's  garden, 
but  is  now  open  and  turfed  around  the  relics  of  the  shattered  palace. 
Here  it  forms  part  of  an  admirable  composition,  supported  by  the 
simple  aspiring  lines  of  the  Five  Sisters,  and  by  the  massive  bulk 
of  the  central  tower  beyond. 

This  is  the  most  beautiful  picture  that  the  e.xterior  of  York  presents. 
If  now,  we  pass  on  toward  the  west,  we  find,  in  the  words  of  the 
guide-book,  that  "the  north  side  of  the  nave  is  far  less  enriched  than 
the  south  side,  and  the  plain  buttresses  do  not  rise  above  the  parapet 
of  the  aisles."  Do  we  ask  an  explanation?  "This  side  was  con- 
cealed by  the  archbishop's  palace."  It  is  an  instructive  explanation 
when  we  remember  Mr.  Ruskin's  theory  that  Gothic  architects,  unlike 
their  Renaissance  successors,  built  not  for  the  praise  of  the  world,  but 
for  the  glory  of  God  alone,  and  therefore  built  as  carefully  in  hidden  as 
in  conspicuous  places  ;  but  the  nave  of  York  is  by  no  means  the  only 
Gothic  structure  in  England  which,  to  less  prejudiced  eyes  than  Rus- 
kin's, proclaims  that  in  all  periods  there  has  been  a  good  deal  cf 
human  nature  in  men. 


Tins  is  the  last  of  our  English  Gothic  cathedrals.  In  describing 
them  I  have  dwelt  upon  their  unlikeness  to  the  cathedrals  of  France, 
and  have  pointed  out  that  it  means  inferiority  in  constructional  power 
and,  consequently,  in  artistic  grandeur  and  perfection.  But,  in  conclu- 
sion, I  wish  to  emphasize  the  fact  that  this  unlikeness  does  not  really 
reveal  two  nations  striving  with  unequal  degrees  of  success  toward 
one  and  the  same  ideal,  but,  rather,  two  nations  each  with  a  different 
ideal  which,  for  the  most  part,  was  loyally  pursued  by  all  its  architects 


The  CatJiedral  of  St.  Peter — York.  359 

in  every  period.  To  understand  Gothic  art  as  a  whole,  and  to  appraise 
the  relative  excellence  of  its  different  national  forms,  we  must  compare 
these  forms  with  each  other.  But,  once  this  has  been  done,  we  should 
judge  individual  English  buildings  chiefly  by  English  standards,  and 
not  consider  them  as  imitations  of  French  buildings.  The  English 
Gothic  ideal  was  not,  like  the  French  Gothic  ideal,  entirely  new  and 
fresh  and  of  local  inspiration.  It  was  formed  by  an  amalgamation  of 
the  old  Norman  and  the  new  French  Gothic  ideals.  But,  therefore,  it 
had  a  special  character  of  its  own,  so  strongly  marked  that  we  may 
well  esteem  it  a  national  character. 

Once  more  I  may  say  that  the  general  mediaeval  wish  for  the 
grandeur  which  springs  from  great  size  expressed  itself  in  England 
in  the  length,  not  in  the  height  or  the  breadth,  of  a  church.  Thus 
an  English  interior  wears  an  aspect  which  we  never  find  reproduced 
in  another  land,  and  which,  although  lacking  in  grandeur  and  poetry, 
has  a  peculiar  interest  and  charm  of  its  own.  And  thus  an  English 
exterior  is  just  as  individual,  not  only  in  the  proportions  of  the  main 
body,  but  in  the  station  and  the  relative  importance  of  the  towers.  As 
there  was  no  attempt  at  great  elevation,  the  Gothic  constructional 
scheme  never  developed  in  its  fullness.  Of  course,  as  I  have  else- 
where said,  we  may  turn  this  sentence  around  and  say  that,  as  English 
builders  did  not  fully  master  the  Gothic  constructional  scheme,  they 
could  not  build  tair  churches.  But  it  is  pleasantest,  now  that  we  are 
taking  our  leave  of  them,  to  think  that  their  own  ideal,  whether  or  not 
it  fully  contents  our  minds  and  eyes,  absolutely  contented  theirs.  It  is 
pleasantest  to  think  that  they  distinctly  preferred  long,  low,  and  narrow 
interiors ;  that  they  esteemed  a  great  central  tower  a  finer  thing  than 
a  tall  church-body  with  a  western  pair  of  towers ;  and  that  they  were 
not  afraid  to  attempt  the  complicated  vaults  required  by  the  circling 
aisles  and  chapels  of  a  French  chevet,  but  really  thought  flat  east  ends 
more  beautiful.  As  regards  their  west  fronts,  indeed,  we  cannot  credit 
them  with  clear  and  persistent  preferences.  We  cannot  deny  that  here 
they  wavered  long  between  illogical,  inappropriate,  and  often  ugly  de- 
signs of  their  own,  and  feeble  imitations  of  tall  French  fagades.  Yet 
even  here  they  eventually  found  a  logical  national  scheme,  and,  in 
Perpendicular  times,  worked  as  frankly,  as  characteristically,  as  in 
their  east  ends  and  central  towers. 

Often,  we  know,  the  English  architect  innovated  boldly  upon  the 
work  of  his  predecessors  and  contemporaries ;  but  it  was  not  to  imi- 
tate the  work  of  a  foreigner.      It  was  to  do  something  quite  individual. 


360  English  Cathedrals. 

like  the  lantern  of  Ely,  the  portico  of  Peterborough,  or  the  Galilee  of 
Durham.  Some  of  his  minor  constructions  of  a  more  general  and 
typical  sort  were  also  wholly  his  own  —  his  chapter-houses,  for  in- 
stance, and  the  beautiful  rectangular  chapels  which  he  threw  out  be- 
yond his  flat  east  ends.  The  Lancet- Pointed  style,  in  development  if 
not  in  inspiration,  was  characteristically  English,  and  the  Perpendicu- 
lar style  was  English  in  every  respect.  Once  or  twice,  as  in  West- 
minster Abbey,  French  influence  made  itself  felt  in  the  general  design 
of  a  church.  But  even  here  the  national  spirit  speaks  from  the  pro- 
portions :  there  is  not  nearly  so  much  difference  between  the  altitude 
of  ninety  feet  at  York  and  that  of  one  hundred  and  one  feet  at  West- 
minster as  between  this  and  the  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  at  Amiens. 
And,  although  in  plan  and  scheme  Westminster  is  French,  in  execu- 
tion—  in  its  minor  features  and  details  —  it  is  thoroughly  English. 
Nothing  was  ever  built  on  English  soil,  after  the  days  of  the  Nor- 
mans, as  Cologne  Cathedral  was  built  on  German  soil,  in  direct  and 
wholesale  imitation  of  Gallic  prototypes. 

Unlike  as  English  Gothic  is  to  Italian  Gothic,  they  have  this  in 
common:  both  were  inspired  by  French  example,  but  each  worked  its 
new  lessons  into  a  national  form  of  art  by  incorporating  them  with 
other  lessons  learned  long  before.  Germany,  on  the  contrary,  bor- 
rowed more  generously,  and  so  did  Spain,  each  accepting  the  French 
Gothic  ideal  in  its  entirety  and  working  it  out  as  well  as  it  could, 
although,  of  course,  except  in  a  few  cases  like  Cologne,  with  con- 
spicuous elements  of  a  national  character. 


THE  WEST  FRONT  OF  ST.   PAUI/S,  FROM    FLEET  STREET. 


Chapter  XIII 


THE  CATHEDRAL  OF  ST.  PAUL  —  LONDON 


T  was  hard  to  decide  upon  the  church  with  which 
an  account  of  EngHsh  cathedral-building  should 
begin,  but  there  can  be  no  question  as  regards 
the  one  that  must  close  the  story.  After 
the  Xorman  or  Romanesque  period  came  the 
Gothic  with  its  three  successive  styles — Lancet- 
Pointed,  Decorated,  and  Perpendicular.  After 
these  came  the  Renaissance  period,  which  pro- 
duced, not  a  group  or  series  of  cathedrals,  but,  in  magnificent  isola- 
tion, the  one  great  church  of  St.  Paul's  in  London.  And  this  is  the 
end  :  St.  Paul's  is  not  the  last  large  church  that  has  been  built  in 
Great  Britain,  but  it  is  the  last  which  reveals  an  architect  of  genius, 
or  illustrates  a  genuine  phase  of  architectural  development.  It  is 
rarely  called  the  Cathedral  of  London.  Many  churches  have  been 
named  for  St.  Paul,  as  for  St.  Peter  and  Our  Lady.  Yet  every  one 
knows  that  "  St.  Paul's"  is  in  London,  as  "St.  Peter's"  is  in  Rome,  and 
"  Notre  Dame  "  in  Paris.* 


The  name  of  London  possibly  comes  from  the  Celtic  Llyn-din 
(meaning  a  lake-fort),  which,  after  the  Roman  conquest,  was  trans- 
formed into  Lo7idiniu7n.  At  all  events,  a  city  stood  in  ancient  British 
times  upon  the  spot,  sixty  miles  from  the  sea,  where  the  River  Lea 
joined  the  River  Thames,  and  the  confluence  of  a  third  stream,  the 
Wallbrook,  supplied  a  harbor  for  the  tiny  vessels  then  in  use.  The 
legends  which  say  that  a  temple  of  Diana  first  occupied  the  site  now 


1  The  best  sources  of  knowledge  with  regard  to  St. 
Paul's  Cathedral  and  its  predecessors  on  the  same 
site  are  William  Longman's  "  The  Three  Cathedrals 
Dedicated  to  St.  Paul  in  London,"  and  Dean  Mil- 
man's  "  .\nnals  of  St.  Paul's,"  which,  in  an  abridged 


shape, forms  the"  Handbook  "  included  in  Murray's 
series.  A  large  amount  of  interesting  historical  in- 
form.ition  is  also  contained  in  Dr.  W.  Sparrow  Simp- 
son's "  Chapters  in  the  History  of  Old  St.  Paul's." 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — London.  363 

covered  by  St.  Paul's,  that  a  British-Roman  Christian  church  was 
built  there,  that  King  Lucius  was  converted,  and  that  Constantine's 
mother,  St.  Helena,  was  in  some  way  concerned  in  the  evangelizing 
of  the  place,  are  as  unverifiable  as  the  one  which  claims  that  Resti- 
tutus,  a  British  bishop  who  was  present  at  the  Council  of  Aries  in 
314,  took  his  seat  as  Bishop  of  London.  In  short,  little  is  known  of 
British  or  of  Roman  London  except  the  fact  that  they  existed  ;  and 
after  the  Saxon  conquest  the  municipal  record  is  still  almost  a  blank 
for  centuries,  until  King  Alfred,  when  he  had  expelled  the  Danes  in 
886,  rebuilt  and  fortified  the  town  which  lay  a  waste  of  ruins  beneath 
his  feet. 

The  ecclesiastical  history  of  London  begins  further  back  than  the 
municipal,  although  in  disjointed  fragments.  In  the  year  604  St.  Au- 
gustine consecrated  Mellitus  as  Bishop  of  London  ;  but  after  the  death 
of  Sebert,  the  Christian  king  of  the  East  Saxons,  his  flock  relapsed 
into  paganism  and  he  was  driven  home  to  Kent.  In  675  Erkenwald 
was  placed  in  the  reestablished  chair  ;  and  so  great  were  his  services 
to  the  town  as  well  as  to  the  church  that  he  was  sainted  after  death, 
and  was  held  in  particular  reverence  by  the  people  of  London  until  the 
Reformation  swept  such  memories  awa)-.  Then  came  a  line  of  bish- 
ops who,  with  the  exception  of  the  great  Dunstan,  are  now  little  more 
than  names  ;  and  then,  in  1044,  Edward  the  Confessor,  in  accordance 
with  his  foreign  leanings,  appointed  a  Xorman  named  William.  "  By 
reason  of  his  goodness,"  say  the  chronicles,  William  was  left  in  peace 
when,  in  the  anti- Xorman  reaction  of  Edward's  later  years,  other  alien 
bishops  were  turned  out  by  the  people  ;  and  after  the  Conquest  he  re- 
paid the  debt  by  persuading  his  namesake  the  Conqueror  to  confirm  the 
city's  ancient  privileges.  Therefore  he  too  dwelt  long  in  the  affections 
of  the  London  folk  :  until  Queen  Elizabeth's  time  at  least  they  made 
an  annual  pilgrimage  of  gratitude  to  his  tomb  in  the  nave  of  St.  Paul's. 

But  the  St.  Paul's  where  he  had  been  buried,  the  first  St.  Paul's 
which  we  are  sure  existed,  had  perished  very  long  before  this,  de- 
stroyed by  fire  in  1087,  only  a  year  after  his  death.  Bede  declares 
that  Mellitus  founded  it,  and  Erkenwald  is  said  to  have  "  bestowed 
great  cost  on  the  fabric  thereof";  but  it  was  probably  a  wooden  church, 
often  burned  and  repaired,  and  greatly  changed  between  Erkenwald's 
time  and  that  much  later  time  when  beneath  its  roof  Ethelred  the  Un- 
ready was  buried,  and  his  successor  Edmund  and  the  Danish  Canute 
were  crowned.  The  Confessor's  preference  for  his  great  new  abbey- 
church  at  Westminster  threw  its  older  claims   into  shadow.     There, 


364  Eiiglis/i  Cathedrals. 

on  ground  which  was  not  yet  London  ground  at  all,  instead  oi  in  the 
cathedral  church,  Edward  was  buried,  and  Harold  and  William  received 
their  crowns ;  and  near  by  William  Rufus  built  himself  a  palace.  The 
practice  then  begun  was  resumed  after  London  became  the  royal  resi- 
dence. No  king  since  Ethelred  has  been  buried  in  St.  Paul's,  none 
since  Canute  has  been  crowned  there,  and  John  of  Gaunt's  was  the  only 
princely  sepulchre  which  adorned  the  cathedral  that  replaced  the  first 
one  and  existed  until  the  great  fire  of  1666.* 


II 

This  second  church  is  the  one  that  is  commonly  called  Old  St. 
Paul's.  It  was  begun  in  1087,  the  last  year  of  the  Conqueror's  life, 
by  Maurice,  the  first  bishop  of  his  appointing,  and  was  built,  of  course, 
after  the  Norman  fashion.  Its  construction  proceeded  slowly  and,  in 
the  year  1139,  was  delayed  by  a  ruinous  fire.  Later  in  this  century 
William  of  Malmesbury  spoke  of  it  as  a  "  most  magnificent  "  edifice, 
but  it  had  grown  and  altered  much  before  it  was  described  and  pictured 
with  greater  definiteness.  In  1221  the  choir,  which  had  been  very  short 
with  a  semicircular  end,  was  replaced  by  a  longer  one  in  the  Lancet- 
Pointed  style ;  and  in  1225  a  Lady-chapel,  equal  to  the  choir  in  breadth 
and  height,  was  added.  Toward  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  Old 
St.  Paul's  stood  at  last  complete,  and  it  was  then  the  largest  as  well  as 
the  most  famous  church  in  England.  Its  length  is  estimated  to  have 
been  590  feet,  and  its  width  104  feet;  the  spread  of  its  transept  was 
290  feet;  and  its  height  was  93  feet  in  the  nave,  and  loi  feet  in  the 
choir.'-  Wren  calculated  that  the  height  of  the  spire  had  been  460  feet, 
and  this  means  that  its  gilt  ball  and  cross  rested  on  a  point  fifty  feet 
above  the  point  of  Salisbury's  steeple;  yet  an  even  loftier  altitude  had 
been  claimed  for  it  by  earlier  historians.  The  nave  and  choir  were  of 
equal  length,  each  consisting  of  twelve  bays ;  and  each  transept-arm 
had  two  aisles  and  was  five  bays  in  length.  The  east  end  was  flat, 
after  the  general  English  fashion;  but  French  influence  seems  indicated 
by  the  great  rose-window  and  the  group  of  lights  of  equal  size  which 
stood  beneath  it,  as  well  as  by  the  unwonted  altitude  of  the  choir.     The 

1  Even  Ihe  town  residence  of  the  bishops  of  Lon-  portions  which  he  gives,  and  the  figure  6  w.is  prob- 
don,  the  modern  "  London  House,"  is  now  at  West-  ably  a  printer's  error  for  5.  Winchester,  now  the 
minster.  longest  church  in  England,  measures  about  560  feet. 

2  Dugdale,  copying  from  Stow,  stales  that  the  Theonly  one  as  tall  as  Old  St.  Paul's  is  Westminster, 
length  of  Old  St.  Paul's  was  690  feet ;  but  the  asser-  where  again  we  find  a  height  of  loi  feet,  while  York 
tir>n  is  not  confirmed  by  the  measurements  of  separate     comes  next  with  92  feet. 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — London. 


565 


central  tower  was  open  as  a  lantern,  perhaps  even  to  the  base  of  the 
spire.  The  southwestern  tower  was  the  famous  "  Lollards'  Tower,"  or 
episcopal  prison,  and,  like  its  mate,  was  low  and  plain,  while  the  front 
between  them  was  poor  and  bald  even  for  an  English  church.  Door- 
ways of  exceptional  size,  however,  opened  into  each  transept-end,  and 
there  were  other  great  doors  into  the  north  and  south  aisles  of  the  nave. 


''i#' 


:..«^JJiiii^    ('       ^     ^ 


T^^-_    -  yi:fi    Cm. 


OLD   ST.  PAUL'S,  FROM    THE   SOUTHWEST. 

REPRODUCED   FROM   A   RESTORATION,  FREfARED   FOR   LONGMAN's   "  THREE  CATHEDRALS  DEDICATED  TO   ST.  PAUL,"   IN   WHICH,. 
FOR   WANT   OF  EXACT   DATA,  THE  WESTERN  TOWERS  OF  THE   CATHEDRAL  AND  THE  SPIRE   Of   ST.  GREGORY'S  WERE   OMITTED. 


Although  kings  and  princes  slept  elsewhere,  the  interior  of  Old  St. 
Paul's  was  crowded  and  gorgeous,  for  bishops,  nobles,  and  especially 
the  rich  citizens  of  London  vied  with  one  another,  through  life  and  after 
death,  in  the  sumptuousness  of  their  gifts.  Its  most  conspicuous  feature 
was  the  elevated  chapel  of  St.  Paul  which  stood  near  one  of  the  tower- 
piers  and,  with  its  winding  stairway,  was  elaborately  carved  in  wood. 
And  its  most  costly  and  famous  ornament  was  the  shrine  of  St.  Erken- 
wald,  sculptured  and  gilded  and  sprinkled  with  jewels,  holding  the 
place  of  honor  just  back  of  the  great  reredos.  The  Lady-chapel  was 
shut  off  from  the  retrochoir  by  a  high  screen.  Before  this  chapel  was 
built,  a  street  ran   close   to  the  end  of  the   choir,  and  here  stood  the 


?66 


English  Cathedrals. 


Church  of  St.  Faith.  Afterward  this  name  was  t,nven  to  the  crypt 
which  underlay  the  whole  choir  of  the  cathedral,  as  it  was  set  apart  for 
the  use  of  the  dispossessed  congregation. 

The  walls  of  the  close,  or  precinct,  which  surrounded  Old  St.  Paul's 
and  was  much  larger  than  the  open  space  we  see  to-day,  were  pierced 
by  si.x  gates  that  were  shut  at  night,  the  chief  one  standing  opposite 
the  west  end  of  the  cathedral  at  the  top  of  Ludgate  street.  Behind  the 
walls  gabled  house-fronts  and  peaked  roofs  gathered  themselves  to- 


PAUI.'S  CROSS,  FROM   AN   OLD   PRINT.i 

FROM    .Ml'RRAV'S    "  HANDBOOKS    TO   THE    CATHEDRALS   OF    ENGLAND." 


gether,  and  even  within  the  precinct  were  many  buildings,  some  pressed 
close  against  the  mighty  fabric  of  the  church  itself.  In  fact,  Old  St. 
Paul's  stood  like  a  Continental,  not  like  an  English  cathedral,  architec- 
turally  as  spiritually  bone  of  the  city's  bone,  with  the  life-blood  of 
human  activity  centring  in  its  mighty  heart. 

Close  to  its  northern  side,  toward  the  west,  lay  the  bishop's  palace, 

1  The  folly  of  seeking  exact  information  in  old  pictures  is  shown  by  this  print  where,  to  make  a  "nice 
picture,"  the  artist  has  calmly  reduced  the  length  of  the  choir  of  Old  St.  Paul's  from  twelve  to  four  bays. 


TJie  CatJiedml  of  St.  Paul — London.  367 

London  House,  with  its  gardens  and  private  chapel  and  door  of  com- 
munication into  the  nave.  Opposite  rose  the  Church  of  St.  Gregory, 
cUnging  to  the  walls  of  the  south  aisle  and  the  Lollards'  Tower,  and 
lifting  its  steeple  as  high  as  the  ridge  of  the  cathedral  roof.  Behind 
St.  Gregory's  rose  the  octagonal  chapter-house,  placed  in  an  unusual 
way  in  the  centre  of  the  quadrangle  formed  by  the  cloister.  Just  behind 
the  palace  lay  another  cloister,  used  for  burial,  and  this  too  encircled  a 
chapel,  first  built  by  the  father  of  Thomas  Becket.  Near  the  northeast 
corner  of  the  choir  stood  the  famous  outdoor  pulpit  called  Paul's 
Cross,  and  opposite  the  east  end  soared  a  great  belfry  with  a  leaden 
spire.  These  were  only  the  chief  of  the  large  buildings  which,  in  the 
early  sixteenth  century,  surrounded  St.  Paul's;  and,  moreover,  all  those 
parts  of  its  long  south  side  which  were  not  half  concealed  by  the  clois- 
ter and  St.  Gregory's  w^ere  so  built  against  by  houses  and  shops  that 
little  except  the  upper  stories  and  the  great  door  in  the  transept  could 
be  seen. 

An  irreverent  medley,  modern  taste  may  say — a  motley,  illiterate 
architectural  crowed,  intrusive  at  the  best,  and  in  many  of  its  parts  dis- 
tressingly plebeian.  But  how  picturesque,  how  natural,  how  vital,  how 
expressive  of  a  cathedral's  function  as  the  soul  of  the  city's  life,  as  a 
temple  of  the  people's  God  ! 

Ill 

Eighteen  years  of  work  were  needed  to  repair  the  injury  when,  in 
1444,  the  spire  of  St.  Paul's  was  struck  by  lightning.  But  another  bolt 
which  fell  in  1561  did  still  greater  damage.  Then  the  spire,  which  was 
of  wood  incased  in  lead,  was  wholly  destroyed,  and  all  the  roofs  fell  in 
heaps  of  rubbish  into  the  church.  The  spire  was  never  rebuilt,  and 
though  the  other  portions  were  at  once  repaired,  it  must  have  been  in 
a  slovenly  fashion  ;  for,  sixty  years  later,  "  the  princely  heart  "  of  James 
L,  says  Stow,  "  was  moved  with  such  compassion  to  this  decayed  fab- 
rick  "  that  he  made  a  state  pilgrimage  to  the  cathedral  to  hear  a  ser- 
mon of  appeal  in  its  behalf  and  appointed  a  Royal  Commission  to 
consider  means  for  restoring  it.  The  corroding  of  "coal-smoak"  was 
even  in  those  days  cited  as  one  perpetual  source  of  trouble. 

The  foremost  architect  of  the  time  was  Inigo  Jones,  and  to  him  the 
repairs  were  intrusted.  He  renewed  the  sides  in  a  "Gothic  manner" 
which  must  have  been  very  bad  ;  added  a  "Grecian  portico"  which  was 
very  good  of  its  kind,  but  wholly  out  of  place  at  the  west  end  of  such 
a  church ;   and  then  was  prevented  by  the  explosion  of  the  Civil  War 


368  E)ig/is/i    Cathedrals. 

from  confounding  confusion  further.  Before  the  year  1640  as  much  as 
^10,000  had  been  contributed  toward  his  \vori<  in  a  single  year,  but  in 
1643  the  entire  amount  was  only  ^15. 

As  early  as  the  fourteenth  century  there  had  been  clerical  protests 
against  the  desecration  of  the  nave  of  St.  Paul's  by  "  people  more  intent 
on  buying  and  selling  than  on  prayers."  As  time  advanced  the  scandal 
grew  till  the  church  became  a  veritable  fair-ground.  Paul's  Walk, 
of  which  we  read  in  many  an  old  play  and  pamphlet,  was  the  space  be- 
tween the  north  and  south  doors  of  the  nave.  Here  horses  and  mules 
were  led  through  the  church,  fops  displayed  their  clothes  and  consulted 
their  tailors,  lawyers  met  their  clients,  and  maids  and  children  romped, 
while  near  a  certain  pillar  servants  regularly  stood  for  the  inspection  of 
intending  masters.  "  I  bought  him  in  Paul's,"  exclaims  Falstaff  o{  Bar- 
dolpli.  A  letter  written  by  a  London  gossip  in  the  year  1600  says, 
"  Powles  is  so  furnisht  that  it  affords  whatsoever  is  stirring  in  France, 
and  I  can  gather  there  at  first  hand  sufficient  to  serve  my  purpose." 
A  tract  of  this  period  is  called,  "How  a  Gallant  Should  Behave  Himself 
in  Paul's  Walk";  and  a  little  later  Bishop  Earle  declares  that  the  ])lace 
is  "  the  great  exchange  of  all  discourse,  and  no  business  whatsoever  but 
is  here  stirring  and  afoot.  .  .  .  It  is  the  synod  of  all  pates  politick  .  .  . 
the  thieves'  sanctuary." 

These  words  only  hint  at  the  abuses  which  for  generations  were 
practised  in  St.  Paul's ;  and  we  can  imagine  how  their  effect  upon  the 
buildings  was  supplemented  by  the  deliberate  spoliation  of  the  early 
Protestant  authorities,  long  before  the  Puritans  came  upon  the  scene. 
In  London,  even  more  than  in  smaller  communities,  not  only  reverence 
for  ancient  art  but  also  respect  for  a  cathedral  as  a  consecrated  place 
was  on  the  wane  even  in  Catholic  days,  and  had  almost  died  out  while 
the  heads  of  kinsjs  were  still  unthreatened  and  Ancrjicanism  was  still 
supreme.  Surely  there  was  some  excuse  for  the  Puritans  when  they 
■ordered  Paul's  Cross  removed  in  1642,  confiscated  the  houses  and 
revenues  of  the  dean  and  chapter,  and  likewise  everything  in  stock 
for  the  use  of  the  repairers  of  the  church,  and,  finding  it  too  big  to  be 
pulled  down,  employed  it  as  a  cavalry-barrack,  and  built  two  stories 
of  hucksters'  booths  into  its  new  Grecian  portico.  They  only  carried 
some  steps  further  the  damage  and  desecration  which  had  been  going 
on  for  centuries.  It  was  only  in  part  their  fault  that  when  Charles  II. 
got  back  to  "  enjoy  his  own  again,"  the  special  possession  which  he 
called  Paul's  Church  was  a  mere  mangled  mass  of  masonry.  Stow 
■spoke  only  of  the  final  stage  in  a  long  slow  process  when  he  wrote  that 


The  Cathciiral  of  St.  Paul — Loudon.  369 

"by  the  votes  of  Parliament  .  .  .  the  very  foundation  of  this  famous 
cathedral  was  utterly  shaken  to  pieces." 

In  1663  feeble  and  futile  efforts  were  begun  to  bring  back  its  life  to 
St.  Paul's;  and  in  1666  Dr.  Wren,  whom  we  know  as  the  great  Sir 
Christopher,  was  asked  to  suggest  a  more  efficient  scheme.  His  an- 
swer showed  that  he  would  have  proceeded  like  Inigo  Jones,  modi- 
fying "the  Gothick  rudeness  of  the  old  design"  with  casings,  additions, 
and  alterations  "after  a  good  Roman  manner."  Indeed,  his  accom- 
panying drawings  prove  that,  had  he  got  to  work,  he  would  have  been 
a  much  more  radical  innovator  than  Jones.  But  less  than  a  week  after 
they  were  approved  his  plans  and  estimates  were  set  at  naught  by  the 
Great  Fire,  which  broke  out  on  September  2.  Pepys  tells  us  how, 
on  September  7,  he  had  "a  miserable  sight  of  Paul's  Church,  with  all 
the  roof  fallen  in  and  the  body  of  the  quire  fallen  into  St.  Faith's." 

Can  we  much  regret  that  Wren  was  thus  enabled  to  leave  us  a 
church  wholly  in  a  "good  Roman  manner"?  Had  there  been  no  fire 
in  1666,  our  legacy  would  not  have  been  Old  St.  Paul's  in  any  ade- 
quate sense.  It  would  have  been  a  mongrel  structure,  where  the  last 
of  England's  great  architects  would  have  done  gross  injustice  to  the 
work  of  his  forerunners,  and  small  justice  to  the  style  of  his  time  or  to 
his  own  immense  ability. 

IV 

At  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  Henry  VII.  added 
his  famous  chapel  to  Westminster  Abbey,  Gothic  architecture  still 
ruled  in  England.  But  long  before  Tudor  times  the  great  movement 
which  we  call  the  Renaissance  of  Art  and  Letters  had  begun  in  Italy. 

A  vague  reverence  for  the  traditions  of  antiquity  had  never  wholly 
perished  on  Italian  soil,  but  no  real  knowledge  of  what  they  meant 
illumined  the  mediaeval  period.  The  Greek  language  had  been  en- 
tirely forgotten  by  Petrarch's  Italy ;  she  despised  the  ruins  of  Rome ; 
and  her  architects  were  building  Gothic  structures,  although  the  dif- 
ference between  their  work  and  northern  Gothic  proves  that,  all  un- 
conscious of  the  fact  themselves,  their  native  sympathies  were  with  the 
structural  ideals  of  antiquity.  It  is  true  that  long  before,  in  the  first 
half  of  the  thirteenth  century,  Niccolo  Pisano  had  fed  his  talent  on  the 
beauty  of  ancient  sarcophagi.  But  he  was  ahead  of  his  time;  his  own 
works  are  Gothic  in  form  if  often  classic  in  feelino-;  and  the  blooming 
season  of  Italian  Gothic  architecture  stretched  all  through  the  four- 
teenth century.  The  revival  of  secular  learning,  the  rise  of  what  is 
^4 


3  yo  Rnglish  Catlicdmh. 

called  "humanistic  scholarship,"  began  with  Petrarch  and  Boccaccio 
in  the  middle  of  this  century.  It  gradually  excited  an  interest  in  the 
art  as  well  as  in  the  literature  of  the  past,  and  the  renascence  of  classic 
architecture  may  be  dated  from  the  year  1403  when,  amid  the  long- 
neglected  ruins  of  Rome,  Brunelleschi  caught  the  inspiration  which 
soon  lifted  into  the  Florentine  sky  the  enormous  dome  of  Santa  Maria 
del  Fiore.  The  succeeding  years,  up  to  about  1500,  form  the  experi- 
menting, growing  stage  of  Italian  Renaissance  architecture,  and  its 
noblest,  finest  time  was  during  the  next  half-century. 

Meanwhile  the  Renaissance  movement,  with  all  that  it  im])licd  in 
all  domains  of  thought,  had  been  spreading  farther  and  farther  north. 
As  regarded  art,  England  was  the  last  country  to  be  swayed,  and  her 
old  architectural  manner  died  very  hard.  Henry  VI I. 's  chapel,  fin- 
ished about  1516,  is  altogether  Gothic  in  conception  and  in  treatment. 
Even  as  late  as  the  reign  of  his  mighty  granddaughter,  Gothic  art  still 
clung  to  the  skirts  of  the  Church :  the  square  casements  and  classic 
details  of  many  a  great  Elizabethan  manor-house  are  grouped  with 
the  tall  pointed  windows  of  its  chapel.  But  the  fight  was  then  practi- 
cally over,  and  in  the  days  of  Charles  I.  and  Inigo  Jones  Gothick  art 
(it  sounds  much  more  out  of  date  with  the  old-time  k .')  was  quite 
dead  and  almost  altogether  despised.  Wren  heartily  despised  it,  ami 
rejoiced  that  it  was  dead.  If  left  to  himself,  he  never  would  have  built 
with  its  bones  except  when  he  saw,  as  at  Westminster  Abbey,  that  "to 
deviate  from  the  old  form  would  be  to  run  into  a  disagreeable  mixture 
which  no  person  of  taste  could  relish  " ;  and  even  Old  St.  Paul's  did 
not  seem  to  him  a  case  like  this,  perhaps  because  Inigo  Jones  had  al- 
ready begun  the  mixture.  It  was  outside  influence  that  forced  him  to 
Gothicize  the  plan  of  St.  Paul's,  and,  in  some  of  his  parish  churches, 
to  "deviate  from  a  better  form"  and  give  them  a  mediaeval  outline 
curiously  at  variance  with  the  classic  character  of  their  details. 

It  is  foolish  to  ask  whether  WVen  "ought"  to  have  felt  as  he  did, 
whether  England  and  the  world  "ought"  to  have  abandoned  Gothic 
for  Renaissance  art.  They  had  no  choice  in  the  matter.  Even  be- 
fore the  new  forms  of  the  south  were  arrayed  against  it,  Gothic  art 
was  dying  from  internal  causes.  Its  constructional  and  its  ornamental 
schemes  had  arrived  at  a  point  whence  they  could  develop  no  further. 
Grace  and  dignity  in  construction,  charm  and  appropriateness  in  orna- 
ment, had  alike  been  lost.  There  was  no  longer  any  feeling  for  beau- 
tiful proportions,  or  for  features  which  should  explain  their  purpose 
while  they  gratified  the  eye.      Nothing  new  could  grow  out  of  those 


TJie  CatJiedral  of  St.  Paul — London. 


37' 


c 

c 


It 


Siwi.? 


a^a^.  -J\ 


372  English  Cathcdnxls. 

elements  which,  beginning  with  the  sturdy  walls  and  piers  and  arches 
of  the  Norman,  hatl  passed  through  varying  phases  of  strength  and 
loveliness  into  the  mechanical  fantasticality  of  late  Perpendicular 
Gothic,  with  misshapen  windows,  shrunken  traceries,  and  flattened 
arches,  with  stalactite  vaults,  reed-like  bundles  of  shafts  which  almost 
denied  their  columnar  origin,  and  gridiron  patterns  for  decoration. 
And  an  architectural  style  never  stands  still :  when  it  ceases  to  grow, 
it  decays  and  makes  room  for  something  else. 

But  even  if  Gothic  art  had  still  been  vigorous,  it  would  have  given 
way  to  Renaissance  art.  The  change  of  style  expressed  a  change  in 
aesthetic  temper,  and  this  itself  was  only  a  part  of  the  great  general 
change  which  had  come  over  the  mental  attitude  of  Europe.  Media;- 
valism  in  religion,  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  in  morals,  and  in  man- 
ners, had  been  swept  away;  how  could  it  survive  in  art?  The  new 
world  had  gained  intellectual  liberty  by  basing  itself  upon  a  combina- 
tion of  Christian  and  classical  learning ;  how  could  its  art  be  anything 
but  a  Christianizing  of  classic  elements?  The  century  which  buried 
Bacon  and  Raleigh,  which  gave  birth  to  Newton,  Milton,  and  Crom- 
well, Hobbes  and  Locke  and  Bunyan  and  Burnet,  which  cut  off  the 
heads  of  King  Charles  and  his  archbishop,  and  drove  King  James 
from  the  throne,  could  not  express  itself  in  the  forms  of  Gothic  art. 
Sir  Christopher  Wren,  who  was  a  Protestant  to  the  backbone,  and 
who  wrote  the  preamble  which  explains  that  the  Royal  .Society  was 
founded  to  make  provision  for  the  study  of  "  Natural  Experimental 
Philosophy,"  could  no  more  have  chosen  to  build  like  Alan  of  Wal- 
sineham  or  William  of  Wykeham  than  like  Erkenwald  himself  The 
seed  that  Brunelleschi  sowed  grew  as  naturally,  as  inevitably,  as 
that  which  was  dispersed  with  Wycliffe's  ashes.  The  dome  of  St. 
Paul's  followed  as  logically  after  the  spire  of  Salisbury  as  the  Royal 
Society  after  the  mediaeval  schoolman's  lecture. 

It  matters  nothing  whether  abstract  criticism  thinks  dome  or  spire 
the  finer,  prefers  the  Gothic  or  the  Renaissance  ideal ;  \Wen  lived  in 
a  creative  age,  and  could  not  doubt  that,  to  work  well,  he  must  use  the 
style  then  alive  and  developing.  Like  all  great  architects,  he  had 
small  regard  for  mere  antiquarianism  or  sentiment  when  it  stood  in 
the  way  of  his  own  success.  Yet,  like  all  great  architects,  he  did  not 
think  of  styles  merely  from  the  aesthetic  point  of  view.  He  knew  that 
changes  in  style  resulted  from  changes  in  construction,  that  these  are 
brought  about  by  new  practical  needs,  and  that,  in  consequence,  the 
style  which  looked  most  beautiful  to  him  was  also  the  best  for  his  cli- 


TJic  CatJiedral  of  St.  Paul — London.  373 

ents'  service.  Practical  requirements  were  uppermost  in  his  mind. 
The  most  radical  alteration  which  he  proposed  before  the  fire  was  to 
cut  off  the  inner  corners  of  the  four  interior  arcades  of  St.  Paul's  where 
they  met  beneath  the  tower,  so  as  to  "  reduce  this  middle  part  into  a 
spacious  dome  or  rotunda,  with  a  cupola  or  hemispherical  roof,"  by 
which  means  the  church  "  would  be  rendered  spacious  in  the  middle, 
which  may  be  a  very  proper  place  for  a  vast  auditory."  He  was  ruled, 
in  short,  by  the  wish  to  fit  the  old  Catholic  edifice  for  the  new  Protes- 
tant form  of  worship.  The  days  of  vicarious  services,  of  gorgeous  long 
processions,  of  relic-worship,  and  of  constant  private  prayer  at  a  score 
of  minor  altars,  had  departed;  the  days  of  congregational  worship  had 
come  with  their  new  necessity  for  massing  an  audience  within  clear  sight 
and  hearing  of  ministrant  and  preacher.  The  old  cathedral  type  was 
no  longer  appropriate ;  the  new  architectural  manner  of  the  Renais- 
sance stood  ready  with  a  new  type  promising  greater  convenience. 
And  the  old  ecclesiastical  architect  had  at  last  disappeared ;  even  in 
England  all  kinds  of  art  were  now  in  the  hands  of  laymen. 


The  fire  had  prepared  a  path  for  Wren,  but  antiquarians,  church- 
men, and  bureaucrats  hampered  his  advance.  In  consequence,  St. 
Paul's  is  inferior  in  many  ways  to  what  it  might  have  been.  The 
story  of  its  building,  could  I  tell  it  in  detail,  would  give  much  sad 
comfort  to  modern  architects  who  think  that  the  buffets  they  meet 
and  the  bonds  they  wear  are  an  invention  of  our  own  degenerate  days. 

Immediately  after  the  fire  Dr.  Wren  was  named  surveyor  and  prin- 
cipal architect  for  the  rebuilding  of  London,  and  one  of  the  com- 
missioners "for  the  reparation  of  St.  Paul's."  He  saw  that  it  could 
not  be  repaired,  but  others  refused  to  agree  with  him  and  began 
to  patch  up  the  nave.  Soon,  however.  Dean  Sancroft  wrote  him  : 
"What  you  whispered  in  my  ear  at  your  last  coming  hither  is  come 
to  pass.  Our  work  at  the  west  end  of  St.  Paul's  is  fallen  about  our 
ears.  .  .  .  What  we  are  to  do  next  is  the  present  deliberation,  in 
which  you  are  so  absolutely  and  indispensably  necessary  that  we  can 
do  nothing,  resolve  nothing,  without  you."  In  July,  1668,  an  order 
was  given  to  remove  the  ruins  of  the  eastern  part  of  the  church  ;  but 
fresh  attempts  were  made  to  restore  the  nave,  and  only  in  1670  was  it 
"fully  concluded  that,  in  order  to  a  new  Fabrick,  the  Foundations  of 
the  old  Cathedral,  thus  made  ruinous,  should  be  totallv  cleared."   This 


374 


English  Catlicdrals. 


work  was  practically  finished  by  the  springs  of  1674,  and  meanwhile 
Wren  had  been  discussing  with  himself  the  plans  for  a  new  cathe- 
dral, and  making  drawings  and  models  for  the  eye  of  the  king  and 
commissioners. 

Of  course,  now  that  a  wholly  new  church  was  required,  he  offered 
designs  in  which  no  trace  of  the  mediaeval  cathedral  scheme  survived. 
First  he  drew  "several  sketches  mere- 
ly for  discourse  sake  to  find  out  what 
might  satisfy  the  world."  Then,  hav- 
ing observed  "  that  the  generality 
were  for  grandeur,  he  endeavored  to 
gratify  the  taste  of  the  Conoisseurs 
and  Criticks  with  somethingf  coloss 
and  beautiful,  conformable  to  the  best 
stile  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  archi- 
tecture"; and  in  various  drawings  and 
a  model  (which  is  still  preser\'ed  at 
South  Kensington),  he  presented  the 
church  of  which  the  plan  is  here  re- 
produced. This  plan  suggests  a  mag- 
nificent interior  most  intelligently  car- 
ried out.  In  this  huge  octagonal  space, 
and  in  the  symmetrical  arrangement 
of  the  four  arms,  convenience  has  been 
well  secured  while  ecclesiastic  dignity 
has  been  preserved.  Despite  the  pres- 
ence of  the  eight  great  double  piers 
needed  to  support  the  dome,  the  area 

thus  provided  is  far  better  for  congregational  services  than  the  long 
narrow  limbs  and  serried  colonnades  of  mediaeval  churches,  while  the 
short  nave  (which  is  really  more  like  a  large  vestibule)  provides  for  an 
overflowing  assembly,  gives  place  for  entrances  of  fitting  grandeur, 
and  supplies  a  point  of  view  whence  the  magnificence  of  the  great 
octagon  can  be  fully  appreciated. 

The  exterior  of  this  favorite  design  of  Wren's'  is  far  less  satisfactory. 
Whether  judged  for  beauty  or  for  ecclesiastic  feeling,  nothing  could 

1  Wren's  grandson,  who  is  our  authority  for  most  study  and  success,  and,  had  he  not  been  overruled  by 

of  the  architects  beliefs  and  experiences,  says  in  the  those  whom  it  was  his  duty  to  obey,  what  he  would 

"  Parentalia"  that  Sir  Christopher  "always  seemed  have  put  into  execution  with  more  cheerfulness  and 

to  set  a  higher  value  on  this  design  than  any  he  had  satisfaction  to  himself  than  the  latter." 
made  before  or  since,  as  what  was  labored  with  more 


PLAN   OF   ST.    PAUL'S   AS   FIRST    DESIGNED 

BY   WREN. 

FKOM  Murray's  "  handbooks  to  the  cathedrals 

OF   ENGI.AND." 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — Lo)idoii.  375 

be  worse  than  the  curved  walls  which  form  the  angles  between  the  four 
limbs  of  the  cross ;  and  the  small  dome  which  rises  over  the  nave 
groups  most  inharmoniously  with  the  larger  one.  This  larger  dome, 
evidently  studied  from  St.  Peter's,  is  the  best  feature  of  the  design ; 
but  Wren  improved  upon  it  when  he  actually  came  to  build,  and  so, 
we  may  believe,  he  would  have  improved  upon  the  rest  of  the  design 
had  he  been  allowed  to  keep  to  the  general  scheme  which  it  indicates. 
The  hindrance  came  from  "  the  chapter  and  some  others  of  the 
clergy"  who  thought  his  model  "not  enough  of  a  Cathedral  fashion, 
to  instance  particularly,  in  that  the  Quire  was  designed  circular,"  and 
that  there  were  no  e.xtended  limbs  with  aisles.  Drawings  in  which 
the  choir  was  enlarged  were  then  presented;  but  the  "  Criticks  "  were 
still  dissatisfied,  and  Wren  was  obliged  to  begin  afresh,  using  the  old 
"Cathedral  form,"  but,  as  he  said,  trying  so  to  rectify  it  "as  to  recon-' 
cile  the  Gothick  to  a  better  form  of  Architecture."  Several  designs 
resulted,  one  of  which  was  approved  by  Charles  II.,  who,  in  the  war- 
rant immediately  issued  for  beginning  the  work,  explained  that  he  had 
"particularly  pitched"  upon  it,  "as  well  because  we  found  it  very  arti- 
ficial, proper,  and  useful,  as  because  it  was  so  ordered  that  it  might  be 
built  and  finished  by  parts."  The  architect  was  directed  to  commence 
with  the  choir,  and  the  king  gave  him  "  liberty  in  the  prosecution  of 
his  work  to  make  some  variations,  rather  Ornamental  than  Essential, 
as  from  time  to  time  he  should  see  proper."  Whereupon  Wren  did 
begin,  took  the  liberty  to  vary  essentials  in  the  most  fundamental  way, 
and  erected  a  church  almost  incredibly  unlike  the  one  that  his  royal 
master  had  approved.  The  drawing  which  bears  Charles's  signature 
is  still  in  e.xistence,  and  a  fragment  of  it  is  reproduced  in  the  cut 
which  forms  the  initial  to  this  chapter.  When  we  see  what  an  aston- 
ishing superstructure  this  reveals  —  a  very  low  spherical  roof,  and  a 
very  tall  drum,  then  a  narrow  elongated  fluted  dome,  and  finally  a 
spire  which  may  almost  be  likened  to  an  unusually  slender  Chinese 
pagoda  —  can  we  regret  that  Wren  liberally  construed  the  royal  man- 
date with  regard  to  alterations,  and  boldly  went  back  to  the  dome 
which  he  had  first  conceived  ?  The  clients  of  that  day,  we  see,  were 
no  wiser  than  the  clients  of  ours.  May  architects  of  our  day  justify 
their  own  occasional  lapses  from  the  conscientious  fulfilment  of  a 
definite  commission  by  citing  Sir  Christopher's  example?  Perhaps;  — 
if  they  are  very  sure  that  they  are  Sir  Christophers,  working  for  the 
nation  and  posterity,  rather  than  for  an  individual  who,  as  we  can 
believe  was  the  case  with  King  Charles,  cares  but  little  one  way  or 


J/" 


English  Cathedrals. 


the  other.  At  all  events,  Charles  had  been  long  in  his  grave  before 
the  dome  was  built.  The  first  foundation-stone  of  the  new  church  was 
laid  at  the  southeast 
corner  of  the  choir  on 
the  2 1st  of  June,  1675. 
The  top  stone  of  the 
lantern  on  the  dome  was 
placed  in  17 10,  in  the 
days  of  Good  (Jucen 
Anne.  Not  only  King 
Charles,  but  King  James 
and  King  William  and 
Queen  Mary,  had  died  as 
St.  Paul's  was  growing. 
But,  on  the  other  hand, 
not  only  W'ren  himself, 
but  Strong,  his  mas- 
ter-mason, and  Henry 
Compton,  the  Bishop  of 
London,  saw  it  begun 
and  saw  it  finished.  Its 
total  cost,  including  sub- 
sequent decorations,  was 
/736.752  2s.  Did.,  and 
was  largely  covered  by 
a  grant  to  the  commis- 
sioners of  the  tax  on 
coal. 

VI 

St.  Paul's  may  be 
called  typically  English 
as  regards  its  plan  ;  for, 
unlike    all    other    great 

domed  churches  with  extended  naves,  it  has  a  choir  as  long  as  the 
nave  itself,  and  only  in  England  had  Gothic  churches  been  built  in  a 
similar  way. 

As  soon  as  we  enter  it,  we  feel  the  impropriety  of  choosing  such 

IThe  length  of  St.  Paul's  is  500  feet,  including  the  The  nave  is  118  feet  and  the  west  front  190  feet  in 
western  portico  but  not  its  steps,  and  the  spread  of  width.  The  height  of  the  church  to  the  top  of  the 
the  transept  is  250  feet,  exclusive  of  the  porticos.       cross  on  the  dome,  is  365  feet. 


PLAN   OF   ST.  P.AUL'S.l 
FROM  Murray's  "handbooks  to  the  cathedrals  of  England.' 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — Loudon.  377 

a  plan  for  a  church  whose  main  feature  is  a  lofty  dome.  At  first  we 
scarcely  see  that  the  dome  exists;  it  does  not  reveal  its  importance 
until  we  come  almost  underneath  it;  and  then  it  seems  to  have  little 
relationship  with  the  long  perspectives  behind  and  before  us.  Their 
lines  do  not  lead  the  eye  up  to  its  lines.  Their  narrow  horizontal  vis- 
tas are  in  disaccord  with  the  vast  sweep  of  its  base  and  its  broadly 
soaring  sphere.  They  cry  out  for  some  form  of  central  ceiling  which 
would  unite  instead  of  separating  them.  It  cries  out  for  a  substruc- 
ture which  would  everywhere  predict  its  character  and  confess  its 
preeminence. 

Many  other  domed  churches  in  western  Europe  have  extended 
naves,  but  in  none  of  them  are  the  other  three  limbs  nearly  as  long 
as  in  St.  Paul's;  and  in  the  case  of  the  two  Avhich  are  most  famous, 
the  designer  of  the  dome  was  not  responsible  for  the  nave. 

During  the  Gothic  period  Arnolfo  was  directed  by  the  city  of  Flor- 
ence to  build  a  cathedral  of  exceptional  grandeur;  so  he  designed 
Santa  Maria  del  Fiore  with  a  long  nave,  but  with  a  very  short  choir 
and  transept,  and  a  central  area  of  unprecedented  size.  At  his  death, 
about  the  year  1300,  this  area  was  still  unroofed;  no  one  knew  how  he 
had  meant  to  cover  it,  for  probably  he  had  not  known  himself;  and  no 
one  dared  suggest  a  method  until,  in  1420,  Brunelleschi  proposed  to 
revive  the  dome  as  the  Romans  had  used  it  in  their  Pantheon  and  their 
baths.  Under  Byzantine  influence  Romanesque  architects  had  erected 
many  small  domes,  notably  those  of  St.  Mark's  at  Venice  and  of  the 
church  of  St.  Front  at  Perigueu.x.  But  after  the  development  of  the 
Gothic  style  domes  were  less  often  used,  Avere  constructed  with  a  sys- 
tem of  ribs,  like  vaulted  ceilings  of  other  kinds,  and,  except  in  the  case 
of  one  or  two  Italian  structures,  were  domical  as  regarded  the  interior 
only.  Brunelleschi  naturally  .sought  counsel  of  the  Romans  when  he 
wished  to  build  an  enormous  roof,  domical  inside  and  out;  and  he  nat- 
urally adopted  their  ribless  system  of  construction  and  their  decora- 
tive details. 

Thus  we  see  why  there  is  architectural  disaccord  in  Santa  Maria 
del  Fiore.  And  thus  we  learn  once  more  that  great  architectural 
innovations  are  inspired,  not  by  mere  superficial  changes  of  taste, 
but  by  new  constructional  needs.  As,  however,  these  needs  make 
themselves  felt  in  times  of  general  change  and  development  and  of 
great  mental  plasticity,  the  innovation  naturally  gratifies  a  nascent 
taste,  or  awakens  a  novel  one,  or  turns  wavering  preferences  in  its 
own  direction.     Brunelleschi's  dome,  inspired  by  a  practical  necessity. 


178 


Eiiglisli  Cathcihals. 


THE  WEST  DOOR. 


Avas  at  once  acclaimed  as  an  artistic  triumph.  Its  success  led  archi- 
tecture into  a  new  path,  and  its  offspring  are  not  only  all  the  other 
domes,  but  all  the  Renaissance  buildings  of  every  kind  with  which 
the  occidental  world  is  covered. 


The  Cathcdml  of  St.  Paul—  London. 


379 


When  St.  Peter's  was  projected,  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century,  Bramante  designed  it  in  the  Renaissance  style  with  an  enor- 
mous dome,  and,  his  sketches  tell  us,  with  a  body  in  the  shape  of  a 


THK   NORTH    AISLE  OF  THF.   NAVE. 


Greek  cross.  But  his  immediate  successors,  San  Gallo,  Fra  Giocondo, 
and  Raphael,  returned  to  the  long  mediaeval  nave — pushed,  we  are 
fain  to  fancy,  like  Wren  in  later  years,  by  the  weight  of  ecclesiastical 
conservatism.  Then  came  Peruzzi,  who  again  suggested  a  Greek 
cross  for  the  plan,  and  then  the  younger  San  Gallo  —  Antonio  —  who 


380  Eiig/is/i   Catlicdmls. 

went  back  once  more  to  the  Latin  cross.  When  Michael  Angelo 
was  appointed  architect  he  too  preferred  the  compacter  plan,  so 
much  better  adapted  to  secure  the  right  effect  of  his  dome ;  and  his 
design  was  carried  on  by  his  successors,  Vignola,  Delia  Porta,  and 
Fontana.  But  before  the  church  was  quite  finished  Pope  Paul  \ . — 
and  here  we  have  clerical  interference  distinctly  recorded  —  bade  Carlo 
Maderno  increase  its  size  by  prolonging  the  nave.  i\nd  later  Italian 
architects,  naturally  influenced  by  two  churches  so  fine  and  so  famous 
as  Santa  Maria  del  I'iore  and  St.  Peter's,  often  combined  a  long  per- 
spective with  a  swelling  dome. 

In  France  the  classic  dome,  forgotten  since  the  completion  of  St. 
Front  at  Perigueu.x  in  the  eleventh  century,  first  reappeared,  in  timid 
essays,  in  the  small  interior  cupolas  of  the  Carmelite  church  on  the 
Rue  de  Vaugirard  in  Paris,  and  of  the  church  of  St.  Paul  and  St. 
Louis  which  was  begun  in  1627.  But  as  a  feature  of  great  impor- 
tance, both  externally  and  internally,  it  was  first  used  in  the  church 
of  the  Sorbonne,  built  by  Le  Mercier  at  Richelieu's  cost  between 
1635  and  1659,  and  in  the  one  attached  to  the  convent  of  the  V'al- 
de-Grace  in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques.  Here  again  we  find  the  plan  in 
the  shape  of  the  Latin  cross.  The  chapel-royal  of  the  Hotel  des  Inva- 
lides  is  the  first  Renaissance  church,  on  northern  soil  at  all  events, 
where  the  scheme  can  be  compared,  for  architectural  unity  and  logic, 
to  those  which  oriental  builders  of  domes  had  elaborated  many  cen- 
turies before.  This  church  is  square  in  plan,  and  its  dome  rests  on  an 
octagon  where  four  great  arches  open  into  four  short,  broad,  and  equal 
limbs,  while  the  four  smaller  alternate  ones  open  into  chapels  occupy- 
ing the  corners  of  the  rectangle  and  covered  by  low  domical  ceilings. 

It  might  be  rash  to  say  that  the  combination  of  a  dome  with  a  long 
nave  cannot  be  well  effected.  But  there  seems  a  natural  opposition 
between  the  two  constructional  ideas;  and  certainly  the  most  success- 
ful domed  interiors  are  those  where  we  find  the  most  compact  and 
symmetrical  disposition  of  parts,  while  next  in  excellence  come  those 
where  choir  and  transept  are  very  short,  and,  as  is  the  case  at  St. 
Peter's,  the  immense  breadth  of  the  nave  supports  its  length  and  pre- 
dicts the  presence  of  the  dome.  If  the  nave  of  St.  Paul's  were  wider, 
we  should  be  less  distressed  by  its  length  ;  but  the  chief  defect  of  this 
interior  is  the  vast  length  of  the  choir,  which  leaves  the  dome  poised 
upon  stretching  colonnades,  unsustained  to  the  eye  by  any  massive 
bulk  of  wall.  Even  the  transept  is  too  long  for  good  effect ;  and  all 
this    deference   to   mediaeval   precedent   has   not   really  increased  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St  Paul — London.  381 

commodiousness  of  the  church,  except  from  a  superficial  point  of  view. 
I  mean  that  more  people  can  enter  it  than  can  profit  by  their  en- 
trance. I  have  seen  Canon  Liddon  preaching  beneath  the  dome  when 
I  could  not  hear  him,  although  I  stood  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  the  transept-door. 

However,  all  things  considered,  we  marvel  less  that  Wren  should 
have  been  forced  to  plan  his  church  in  this  way  than  that  he  should 
have  preferred  a  more  compact  plan  himself;  for  he  knew  little  or 
nothing  of  the  orient,  and  could  not  have  been  helped  by  the  chapel 
of  the  Hotel  des  Invalides,  as  this  was  begun  in  the  same  year  as  St. 
Paul's.  But  it  is  interesting  to  speculate  upon  the  idea  that  he  may 
have  been  influenced,  in  preparing  his  first  design,  by  Antonio  San 
Gallo's  model  for  St.  Peter's;  for  this  shows,  not  a  Latin  cross  ex- 
actly, but  a  Greek  cross  preceded  by  a  large  porch  which  is  con- 
nected with  it  by  an  intermediate  bay,  narrower  than  the  nave. 


VII 

The  base  of  Brunelleschi's  dome  corresponds,  in  size  and  shape, 
with  the  area  inclosed  by  its  supports :  eight  piers  and  eight  connect- 
ing arches  form  an  octagonal  area  and  bear  an  octagonal  wall  or  drum, 
and  from  this  drum  spring  the  eight  sides  of  the  dome.  But  the  dome 
of  St.  Peter's  is  a  polygon  of  sixteen  sides,  and  only  four  piers  sustain 
it;  so  its  builders  employed  what  architects  call  pendentives — curving 
surfaces  of  wall  which,  filling  the  spaces  between  the  arches,  unite 
above  in  a  continuous  wall  of  the  shape  desired  for  the  base  of  the 
dome;  and  the  picture  on  page  387  shows  how,  by  the  use  of  this  de- 
vice (invented  by  the  architects  of  the  Byzantine  empire,  after  the  clas- 
sic days  of  Rome),  the  circular  drum  of  St.  Paul's  was  accommodated  to 
the  octagon  formed  by  the  eight  supporting  piers.  Above  the  plinth 
at  the  base  of  the  drum  is  a  plain  surface  of  wall  with  a  balustraded 
gallery ;  above  this  is  a  tall  colonnade  pierced  with  windows ;  and  then 
the  dome  curves  in  to  its  open  central  eye. 

The  dome  of  the  Val-de- Grace  was  begun  by  Leduc  about  1655 
and  was  finished  in  1685.  We  should  like  to  know  how  far  it  had 
progressed  by  1665,  the  year  before  the  fire,  when  Wren  wrote,  "I 
have  busied  myself  in  surveying  the  most  esteemed  Fabrics  of  Paris 
and  the  country  round";  for  in  a  very  important  point  it  presents  a 
strong  contrast  to  the  domes  of  Italian  churches,  and  a  close  likeness 
to  those  of  the  Invalides  and  St.  Paul's. 


382 


English  Cathedmls. 


The  solid  brick  wall  which  forins  the  lower  portion  of  Brunelles- 
chi's  dome  divides,  about  half-way  up,  into  tw^o  distinct  shells;  but  the 
expedient  was  purely  constructional,  as  distinguished  from  architec- 
tural, for  the  walls  have  the  same  curve  and  stand  only  a  few  feet 
apart,  and  so  the  form  and  dimensions  of  the  dome  are  practically 
the  same  inside  and  outside.      But  at  the  V'al -de-Grace  there  are  two 


SKCTION   SHOWING   INNER   AND  OUTER  DOMES, 
WITH   THE    INTERMEDIATE   CONE   OF   BRICK. 

FROM   LONGMAN'S   "  THREE  CATHEDRALS  DEDICATED  TO  ST.    PAUL." 


■quite  independent  and  different  domes, — a  comparatively  low  spherical 
vault  of  stone,  and,  starting  from  a  much  taller  drum  and  rising  much 
higher,  an  external  dome  of  wood  covered  with  lead;  and  at  St.  Paul's 
we  find  the  same  arrangement.  But  whether  Wren  learned  this  from 
Leduc  or  not,  another  feature  of  his  dome  was  all  his  own.  This  is  a 
third  wall  which  rises  between  the  other  two  —  a  cone-shaped  dome 
of  brick  which  helps  to  solidify  the  whole  structure  and  to  support  the 
timbers  of  the  outer  dome,  but  was  specially  designed  to  bear  the 
stone  lantern,  ninety  feet  in  height  and  immensely  heavy. 

This  intermediate  cone,  like  the  double  walls  of  Santa  Maria  and 
St.  Peter's,  was  a  mere  constructional  expedient.      But  the  separation 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — London.  385 

of  the  inner  from  the  outer  dome  was  an  architectural  idea  in  the  full- 
est sense  of  the  term.  If  Wren  did  not  learn  it  from  Leduc,  if  he 
conceived  it  himself,  it  proves  that  he  possessed  creative  powder  of  the 
noblest  sort;  and  in  any  case  his  execution  of  it,  on  so  very  large  a 
scale,  is  his  highest  title  to  fame.  Yet  it  is  just  this  idea  which  has 
often  led  to  his  condemnation  as  an  "insincere"  and  "untruthful"  ar- 
chitect by  those  who  do  not  understand  the  bearing  of  the  words  as 
thus  applied. 

His  purpose,  of  course,  was  to  make  his  dome  as  beautiful  as  possi- 
ble both  inside  and  out.  In  pursuing  such  an  aim  an  architect  must 
respect  broad  structural  veracities.  He  must  not,  for  instance,  build 
a  dome  outside  where  there  is  none  within,  or  cover  a  circular  domed 
ceiling  with  a  square  external  tower.  His  exterior  must  interpret  his 
interior;  but  the  interpretation  need  not  be  a  detailed  explanation. 
Over  stone  vaults  divided  into  compartments,  as  over  flat  wooden 
ceilings,  Gothic  architects  raised  slanting  wooden  roofs  of  much 
higher  pitch  ;  and  above  their  open  central  lanterns  they  carried  towers 
to  a  far  loftier  height,  and  then  often  crowned  them  with  spires. 
Wren's  two  domes  are  the  legitimate  successors  of  forms  like  these ; 
and  his  intermediate  cone  is  a  fine  constructional  expedient,  as  lawful 
as  the  timber  framework  with  which  fourteenth-century  builders  braced 
the  tall  stone  spire  of  Salisbury. 

There  can  be  no  question  with  regard  to  the  artistic  advantage  of 
the  diverging  domes,  since  they  give  the  architect  perfect  freedom, 
enabling  him  to  care  in  a  special  way  for  interior  and  for  exterior 
effect.  It  was  no  new  discovery  that  a  given  set  of  proportions  may 
not  look  equally  well  inside  and  outside  a  building.  Gothic  architects 
could  not  carry  a  great  church  too  high  for  increase  of  majesty  and 
charm  in  the  interior;  but  the  higher  they  carried  it,  the  harder  was 
the  task  of  preserving  grace  in  the  exterior.  Compromise  offers  the 
only  relief  from  this  difficulty.  But  there  is  another  way  out  of  that 
opposite  difficulty  which  dome-builders  have  to  meet ;  and  the  seven- 
teenth century  was  intelligent  enough  to  find  it.  We  wish  that  sixth- 
century  builders  had  found  it  when  we  see  the  most  beautiful  ceiling 
in  the  world,  the  wide  hemispherical  vault  of  St.  Sophia  at  Constanti- 
nople, appearing  outside  the  church  as  a  flat  saucer-like  roof,  devoid 
of  both  dignity  and  grace.  And,  I  may  add,  certain  other  oriental 
builders  did  find  it,  although  their  solution  probably  did  not  instruct 
either  Leduc  or  Wren :  the  beautiful  outer  dome  of  the  mosque  at 
Ispahan,  for  instance,  which  dates  from  the  fifteenth  century,  is  a  shell 


384  EnglisJi  CatJicdrals. 

of  wood  covered  with  lead,  rising  far  above  the  inner  dome;  and  of 
similar  form  and  fabric  are  now  the  domes  of  St.  Mark's  in  Venice, 
originally  built  low  and  solid,  but  covered  in  the  fourteenth  or  fifteenth 
century  with  tall  wooden  shells. 

The  single  dome  of  St.  Peter's  is  very  beautiful  both  within  and 
without ;  yet  inside  it  seems  almost  too  tall  despite  its  enormous  span, 
and  outside  it  can  be  full\-  appreciated  only  from  a  point  so  distant 
that  the  body  of  the  church  sinks  into  insignificance  beneath  it.  The 
desire  of  Sir  Christopher  and  his  French  contemporaries  was  to  raise 
their  outer  domes  so  that  they  might  produce  their  full  effect  from 
near  as  well  as  from  distant  points  of  view,  and  surely  it  was  a  law- 
ful ambition.  We  cannot  think  that  the  great  gilded  sphere  of  the 
Invalides,  or  the  fluted  gray  cupola  of  St.  Paul's,  is  a  foot  too  high; 
but  fancy  either  of  them  revealed  as  a  ceiling  up  to  the  base  of  the 
lantern  it  bears! 

Increase  of  external  height  was  secured,  in  western  Europe,  not  by 
elongating  the  sphere  itself,  but  by  giving  the  drum  more  prominence. 
Brunelleschi,  like  the  Romans  and  all  oriental  builders,  used  a  very 
low  drum.  Michael  Angelo  raised  his  much  higher,  saying  that  he 
wished  to  "swing  Brunelleschi's  dome  in  the  air."  But  Wren,  with 
his  doubled  cupola  in  mind,  could  Ix-  far  bolder  still;  and  we  cannot 
too  greatly  admire  his  design  where,  though  the  drum  has  two  stories 
and  one  is  immensely  tall,  unity  is  perfectly  preserved  and  the  propor- 
tions are  so  beautiful  that  the  dignity  of  the  dome  itself  is  merely  in- 
creased by  the  magnificence  of  its  base.  Naturally  the  drum  of  the 
interior  dome  is  not  nearly  so  high,  being  proportioned  to  its  own  alti- 
tude. Indeed,  the  height  of  the  outer  drum  is  almost  as  great  as  that 
of  the  whole  ceiling  up  to  its  eye. 

In  the  chapel  of  the  Invalides  the  eye  of  the  domed  ceiling  is  very 
wide,  and  through  it  we  look  up  at  an  immense  painting  which  covers 
the  surface  of  an  intermediate  dome  of  flattened  shape.  At  St.  Paul's, 
through  a  much  smaller  opening,  we  look  up  into  the  mysterious  area 
of  the  tall  brick  cone.  The  chance  to  secure  effects  like  these  should 
not  be  forgotten  in  weighing  the  merits  of  the  system  of  divergent 
domes,  nor  the  many  ways  in  which  such  domes  permit  the  builder  to 
lighten  his  fabric  on  the  one  hand,  to  brace  and  support  it  on  the 
other.  The  lantern  on  St.  Peter's  could  not  be  built  as  larcfe  as  at  first 
intended,  yet  the  dome  has  had  to  be  strengthened  by  iron  bands,  while 
the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  is  still  as  firm  and  steady  as  at  first.  Never  in 
St.  Paul's,  I  may  add,  do  we  receive  a  more  tremendous  impression 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — London. 


585 


THE  DOME,  FROM  THE  RIVER. 


than  when,  standing  in   the  gallery  that  surrounds   the   eye,  we  look 
downward  into  the  church,  upward  into  the  lofty  cone.' 

1  The  dome  of  the  Invalides  was  designed  by  the  a  constructional  one  like  the  cone  at  St.  Paul's.  The 
younger  Mansard  shortly  before  the  year  1700.  Its  lantern  is  borne  by  the  outer  dome,  and,  like  this,  is 
intermediate  dome  is  chiefly  a  decorative  feature,  not     of  wood. 

25 


386  Euglisli  Cathcdyah. 

I'^ar  tliough  it  falls  below  the  outer  dome,  Wren's  great  ceiling  is  still 
too  high.  Its  aspect  speaks  of  mystery  and  grandeur  rather  than  of 
beauty.  Of  course  it  seems  even  taller  than  it  is  because  of  the  smoky 
air  which  tills  it — thick  almost  as  an  actual  cloud;  and  it  will  seem 
lighter,  more  graceful,  more  beautiful,  if  it  is  ever  properly  decorated. 
But  the  outer  dome  is  and  always  will  be  Wren's  greatest  triumph. 
Can  we  study  such  a  work  as  this,  look  back  to  its  origin  in  the  dome  of 
the  Pantheon,  and  then  say  that  Renaissance  art  is  only  a  copy  of 
antique  art?  or,  as  actually  has  been  said,  that  it  is  worse  than  a  copy, 
being  a  "corruption"? 

VIII 

We  are  often  told  that  the  beauties  of  St.  Paul's  are  due  to  Wren, 
and  its  faults  to  his  employers.      But  this  is  true  only  in  part. 

Wren  did  as  well  as  one  could  with  the  plan  he  was  forced  to  Gothi- 
cize,  especially  e.xcellent  being  tiic  wa\-  in  which  he  arranged  the  sup- 
ports of  his  dome  so  as  to  leave,  from  end  to  end  of  the  church,  a  clear 
vista  through  all  the  aisles.  He  rightly  asked  for  brilliant  mosaics  in 
the  dome,  but  was  forced  to  .see  it  painted  in  dark  heavy  tones,  while 
all  the  rest  of  the  interior  was  left  cold  and  bare.  In  spite  of  his  actual 
tears  of  protest,  the  Duke  of  York,  intent  upon  bringing  back  some 
day  the  Catholic  form  of  worship,  insisted  upon  the  chapels  at  the 
western  end,  which  greatly  injure  the  e.\ternal  effect  of  the  church. 
And  the  building  commissioners  insisted  upon  the  balustrade  which 
crowns  the  external  walls,  although  Wren  showed  them  that  a  plain 
plinth  above  the  entablature  formed  a  sufficient  finish,  and  compared 
them  to  ladies  who  "think  nothing  well  without  an  edging." 

But  Wren  was  himself  responsible  for  the  weak  way  in  which  the 
main  vaulted  ceilings  spring  from  a  low  attic  order,  and  also  for  the 
ugliest  features  in  the  whole  church  —  those  superimposed  arches  which, 
alternating  witli  the  great  arches  that  open  into  the  four  ]ini1)s,  help 
them  to  support  the  dome.  These  features  show  in  the  pictures  on 
page  387  and  page  388.  We  are  glad  to  know  that  after  they  were 
built  Wren  disliked  them  extremely.  But  the  remedy  he  proposed 
does  not  strike  us  as  quite  happy:  he  suggested  that  groups  of 
statues  be  placed  in  the  upper  window-like  openings  and  backed  with 
make-believe  curtains  of  plaster!  As  a  whole  the  interior  of  St. 
Paul's  lacks  unity  and  repose,  while  the  choice  and  proportioning  of 
its  features  do  not  reveal  a  very  delicate  artistic  sense,  and  its  scheme 
of  sculptured  decoration  shows  neither  the  fertility  in   invention,  the 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Fait! — Loudon. 


387 


exquisite  taste,  nor  the  skilful  touch  which  characterize  the  contem- 
porary work  of  France.  Even  as  a  compromise  between  two  archi- 
tectural ideals  it  might,  we  feel,   have  been  a  little  better  managed. 


THE   INTERIOR   OF   ST.   PAUL'S,  LOOKING   FROM   THE  NAVE    INTO  THE  CHOIR. 


The  exterior  is  much  more  successful,  although  here  again  wc  can- 
not give  unstinted  praise.  A  want  of  unity  between  the  dome  and  the 
church  is  still  apparent,  the  one  standing  on  the  other  almost  like  an  in- 
dependent structure  raised  on  a  lofty  platform;  yet  in  itself  this  platform 


388 


Eiig/is/i  Cathciimls. 


THE  WESTERN  AISLE  OF  TRANSEPT 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — Londoii.  389 

is  superb  in  mass  and  silhouette.  If  we  examine  the  construction  of 
the  lateral  fagades,  we  find  a  want  of  truthfulness  which  may  be  criti- 
cized with  much  more  justice  than  the  bold  divergence  of  the  inner  and 
outer  domes.  The  real  walls  of  the  exterior  end  with  the  entablature 
over  the  lower  range  of  pilasters,  which  defines  the  altitude  of  the  aisles. 
Above  this  point  the  wall,  with  its  second  range  of  pilasters,  is  a  mere 
screen,  standing  free  and  hiding  the  true  clearstory-wall  as  well  as  the 
flying-buttresses  which  spring  to  this  from  the  top  of  the  true  aisle- 
wall.  I  do  not  say  that  the  device  was  a  worthy  one;  but  a  frank  con- 
fession of  the  long  low  aisles  which  Wren  was  forced  to  build  would 
have  injured  that  effect  of  monumental  unity  and  simplicity  which  is 
the  essence  of  Renaissance  as  compared  with  Gothic  art,  and  would 
have  resulted  in  a  mass  far  less  well  adapted  than  the  one  we  see  to 
form  a  pedestal  for  the  mighty  dome.  And,  after  all,  if  Gothic  archi- 
tects did  not  build  screen-walls,  they  were  not  ashamed,  in  England  at 
least,  to  hide  their  flying-buttresses  under  the  roofs  of  their  aisles. 

The  semicircular  porches  which  finish  the  transept-ends  are  not  very 
harmonious  features ;  and,  despite  its  dignity,  the  western  front  has 
patent  faults.  Wren  proved  himself  a  true  descendant  of  English 
Gothic  builders  when  he  misrepresented  the  breadth  of  his  church  by 
placing  the  towers  outside  the  line  of  the  lateral  walls;  and  he  sinned 
in  another  way  by  making  the  upper  colonnade  of  his  portico  shorter 
than  the  lower  one;  —  unity  of  effect  is  disturbed,  and  the  second  story 
looks  heavier  than  the  first,  whereas  it  might  well  have  been  lighter. 

Yet  the  merits  of  this  exterior  far  outweigh  its  defects,  for,  although 
we  may  object  to  certain  features  and  arrangements,  the  church  as  a 
whole  never  fails  to  impress  in  the  profoundest  way  both  the  eye  and 
the  imagination.  It  is  a  magnificent  building,  and  we  cannot  always 
say  as  much  of  buildings  in  which  we  discover  fewer  special  faults. 
People  who  have  no  eye  for  the  picturesque  sometimes  complain  of  • 
its  color,  or  rather  of  the  way  in  which  smoke  and  soot  have  altered 
its  color.  But,  fresh  in  the  first  whiteness  of  its  Portland  stone,  it  could 
hardly  have  been  as  imposing  as  it  is  to-day,  when  great  streaks  and 
patches  of  inky  black  accentuate  the  pallor  of  more  sheltered  portions. 


IX 

Of  course  I  ought  to  say  more  about  the  character  of  Renaissance 
architecture  and  the  way  in  which  it  is  illustrated  by  St.  Paul's.      But 
how,  in  a  single  chapter,  could  I  attempt  to  do  for  this  great  style  what, 
25* 


590 


English  Cathedrals. 


THE  WEST  FRONT  OF  ST.  PAUL'S,  FROM   LUDGATE   HILL. 


The  CatJiedral  of  St.  Paul — London:  391 

in  a  dozen  chapters,  I  have  found  it  impossible  to  do  completely  for  the 
mediaeval  styles?  And  I  must  make  room  for  one  or  two  historical  facts 
of  another  sort. 

Few  churches  as  large  as  St.  Paul's  have  been  built  in  so  short  a 
time  ;  and  I  think  no  architect  but  Wren  has  been  able  to  say  of  such 
.a  church  that  it  was  all  his  own.  But  in  some  ways  Wren  paid  very 
high  for  his  long  life  and  noble  opportunity.  Constantly  thwarted  in 
his  work,  he  was  also  constantly  assailed  by  jealousy  and  slander; 
and.  at  the  age  of  eighty-six,  when  the  fabric  of  St.  Paul's  had  long 
been  complete  but  there  was  still  much  to  do  in  minor  matters,  he 
was  dismissed  from  the  office  he  had  held  during  forty-nine  years,  to 
make  room  for  a  favorite  of  King  George's.  But  he  must  have  felt, 
as  we  feel,  that  the  disgrace  of  this  act  did  not  rest  upon  him.  He 
soon  retired  to  Hampton  Court,  and  there,  says  his  grandson,  "free 
from  worldly  cares,  he  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  five  last  following 
years  of  his  life  (he  lived  to  ninety-two)  in  contemplation  and  studies, 
and  principally  in  the  consolation  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  cheerful  in 
solitude,  and  well  pleased  to  die  in  the  shade  as  in  the  light." 

A  vast  crypt  stretches  beneath  the  whole  of  St.  Paul's,  and  here  lie 
the  bodies  of  most  of  those  whose  monuments  appear  in  the  church 
above.  Sir  Christopher  himself  lies  at  the  east  end  of  the  south  aisle. 
In  the  place  where  he  ought  to  have  rested,  under  the  centre  of  his 
dome,  lies  Lord  Nelson,  who  ought  not  to  have  been  buried  in  St. 
Paul's  at  all  —  if  it  be  true  that  he  cried  to  fate  to  give  him  "Victory 
or  Westminster  Abbey."  Near  Wren  sleeps  our  countryman  Benja- 
min West,  with  Reynolds,  Turner,  Lawrence,  and  other  artists  of 
lesser  renown ;  near  Nelson  sleep  Wellington,  Collingwood,  and 
other  great  soldiers  and  sailors :  and  of  course  noted  churchmen  are 
not  wanting. 

The  best  works  of  sculpture  which  St.  Paul's  can  show  are  the 
beautiful  choir-stalls  carved  in  wood  by  Grinling  Gibbons  under  the 
eye  of  Wren,  and  the  memorial  to  Wellington,  designed  by  Alfred 
Stevens,  still  incomplete,  and  not  in  its  proper  place.  But  there  is  one 
monument  a  great  deal  finer  than  this.  I  mean  Sir  Christopher's  own, 
which,  as  we  have  often  heard,  is  simply  the  church  itself.  The  famous 
inscription  which  ends,  Lccio}-,  si  Monumentuni  rcquiris,  circiiinspice, 
was  written  by  his  son  and  placed  on  his  tomb,  but  is  now  repeated 
over  the  door  of  the  north  transept-arm.  A  full  translation  runs: 
"  Beneath  is  laid  the  builder  of  this  church  and  city,  Christopher 
Wren,  who  lived  more  than  ninety  years,  not  for  himself  but  for  the 


392 


EuiiUsli   Cathedrals. 


good  of  the  State.      Reader,  if  thou  askest  for  a  monument,  look  arountl 
thee."    And  I  think  the  epitaph  is  as  fine  in  its  way  as  the  monument. 


THE   FONT. 


Except  for  a  brief  period,  when  the  fiery  light  of  the  struggles  which 
introduced  and  assured  the  Reformation  threw  a  few  figures  into 
heroic  relief,  the  bishops  of  London  have  not  often  been  conspicuous 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — London.  393 

men.  Their  power  as  bishops  was  not  commensurate  with  the  power 
of  their  town.  The  metropolis  of  England  in  every  other  sense,  Lon- 
don has  ranked  ecclesiastically  with  towns  as  small  as  Ely  and  Wells. 
Pope  Gregory  intended  that  it  should  be  the  archiepiscopal  seat,  but 
St.  Augustine  decided  otherwise,  and  his  arrangement  has  never  been 
disturbed.  To  rise  as  high  as  he  could  in  the  Church,  to  have  the 
best  chance  for  rising  in  the  State,  a  bishop  of  London  had  to  get 
himself  transferred  to  the  tiny  city  of  Canterbury.  But  Bonner  and 
Ridley,  Grindal  and  Sandys,  and  John  Aylmer,  the  tutor  of  Lady  Jane 
Grey,  were  bishops  of  London  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  in  the 
seventeenth  Laud  and  Judson  and  Compton  ;  and  among  the  deans 
of  the  chapter  in  these  troublous  times  were  John  Colet,  the  friend  of 
Erasmus ;  Richard  Pace,  the  friend  of  Wolsey ;  Alexander  Nowell, 
whom  Queen  Elizabeth  rebuked  for  "papacy  "in  his  cathedral;  John 
Donne,  the  poet;  and  William  Sancroft,  who,  after  he  had  helped 
much  toward  the  rebuilding  of  St.  Paul's,  was  raised  by  King  Charles 
to  the  throne  of  Canterbury.  Among  recent  names  those  of  Bishop 
Tait,  afterward  archbishop  too,  and  of  Dean  Milman  and  Dean 
Church,   are   the  ones  which  the  world  will  remember  longest. 

o 


Seeing  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  afar  off  or  close  at  hand,  lighted  by 
the  faint  city  sunshine,  wrapped  in  banks  of  mist  like  a  mountain's 
shoulder,  or  outlined  against  a  midnight  heaven,  who  can  deny  that, 
despite  all  the  beauty  of  Gothic  spires  and  towers,  a  dome  is  the  noblest 
crown  that  a  great  aggregate  of  human  homes  can  carrj'?  In  the  miea- 
sureless  panorama  of  London,  what  are  the  towers  of  Westminster, 
what  would  be  the  spire  of  Salisbury,  compared  with  its  titanic  bulk,  so 
majestically  eternal  in  expression,  yet  so  buoyant,  so  airy,  that  when 
the  clouds  float  past  it  we  can  fancy  that  it  soars  and  settles  like  a 
living  thing  ? 

The  dome  of  St.  Paul's  rising  above  a  town  like  Salisbury  would  in- 
deed be  out  of  place.  But  it  is  not  in  such  towns  that  the  world  now 
puts  its  noblest  buildings.  More  than  at  any  time  since  the  imperial 
days  of  Rome  men  are  now  dwellers  in  cities,  and  cities  grow  to  enor- 
mous size.  The  dome  which  the  Romans  bequeathed  us,  and  the  form 
of  art  which  its  use  first  developed,  now  better  express  our  needs  and 
tastes,  and  better  meet  our  executive  artistic  powers,  than  the  Gothic 
spire  and  the  art  it  typifies.     Medisvalism  has  passed  out  of  life  ;  is  it 


394 


English  Cathedrals. 


ST.  PAULS,  FROM  WATERLOO   BRIDGE  — A   FOGGY   MORNING. 


not  an  anachronism  to  attempt  its  perpetuation  in  art  ?  Our  true 
sympathies  He  where  lay  those  of  Brunelleschi,  Michael  Angelo,  and 
Christopher  Wren.  We  teach  our  children  from  the  books  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans,  not  of  the  schoolmen,  and  teach  them  intellectual 
freedom,  not  subservience  to  king  or  priest  or  rigid  mystic  creed.  We 
should  be  glad  enough  to  sit  at  dinner  with  Pericles  or  Cicero,  with 
Wren  or  Brunelleschi ;  should  we  like  the  food,  the  table,  the  manners 
or  the  talk  of  a  thirteenth-century  bishop?     Could  he  ever  grow  to  be 


The  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul — London.  395 

one  of  ourselves,  as  Cicero  and  Brunelleschi  might,  did  they  come 
back  to  try  ?  Of  course  we  admire  the  churches  he  built,  and  not 
at  all  in  the  same  way  that  we  admire  the  temples  of  Rameses  or 
the  mosques  of  the  Arabs,  for  his  blood  is  in  our  veins  and  the  history 
he  helped  to  make  is  ours.  But  lineage  and  material  history  are  not 
the  only  things  which  control  artistic  development. 

A  whole  school  of  modern  English  architects,  trying  to  vitalize 
their  art,  have  wished  it  to  be  "  national  "  and  have  interpreted  this 
term  as  meaning  mediaeval.  But  no  great  architectural  manner  is 
English  in  the  sense  that  Renaissance  architecture  is  Italian.  Gothic 
architecture  was  really  born  in  France.  Yet  Salisbury  and  York  are 
really  English  churches ;  and  so  is  St.  Paul's,  although  inspired  by 
foreign  example.  If  we  say  it  is  not,  we  merely  imply  that  the  English 
of  the  seventeenth  century  were  less  truly  English  than  those  of  the 
thirteenth ;  for  it  was  built  in  the  manner  which  had  become  their 
natural  national  manner.  The  wind  that  sways  and  fertilizes  the  mind 
blows  whence  it  listeth,  infusing  new  qualities  into  the  purest  strain 
of  blood;  and  it  is  these  qualities — mental  qualities — which  express 
themselves  in  art.  Not  unless  modern  Englishmen  themselves  be- 
come mediaevalized  can  they  hope  again  to  build  really  noble  Gothic 
structures. 

"  But,"  some  one  is  sure  to  object,  "  Renaissance  art  is  pagan. 
Although  we  may  use  it  for  our  secular  buildings,  we  want  Roman- 
esque or  Gothic  for  our  churches."  "  No,"  another  is  sure  to  protest, 
"Renaissance  art  is  papistical.  Rome  may  use  it,  Protestantism  should 
not."  Each  of  these  objections  contradicts  the  other,  and  neither  has 
the  least  excuse  in  fact.  The  "Grecian  temple  style,"  which  for  a  time 
flourished  in  England  and  was  fostered  in  this  country  by  Thomas 
Jefferson,  may  be  charged  with  paganism;  but  not  the  true  Renaissance 
styles  which  Christian  architects,  in  trul)-  creative  times,  developed  out 
of  the  elements  of  anticjue  art.  And  this  development  took  place  just 
as  the  power  of  Rome  was  breaking.  Renaissance  art  is  really  the  art 
of  Protestantism.  It  is  the  expression  of  that  spirit  which,  amid  other 
emancipations,  wrought  freedom  in  religious  faith.  St.  Peter's  and  the 
countless  Renaissance  churches  which  Catholic  hands  have  since  erected 
simply  prove  that  even  Rome  herself  could  not  escape  the  influence  of 
the  great  movement  which  produced  the  Reformation. 

It  seems  impossible  to-day  to  start  quite  fresh  in  any  intellectual 
path.  It  certainly  is  impossible  to  hark  back  to  a  path,  however  sacred, 
noble,    and  attractive,   from  which,   four  centuries  ago,   our   ancestors 


396 


English  Cathedrals. 


naturally  and  inevitably  diverged.  To  build  truthfully,  spontaneously, 
modern  men  must  build  in  the  fashion  that  was  evolved  when  the 
modern  world  was  born.  Frenchmen  have  remembered  this  truth,  antl 
it  shows  in  the  difference  between  modern  Paris  and  London  or  New- 
York.  We  may  admire  the  forms  of  Gothic  art  more  than  any  others, 
but  with  them  no  proj,''ressive  nation  can  make  a  garment  to  cover  all 
the  needs  of  the  twentieth  century.  With  the  forms  of  Renaissance  art 
such  a  garment  can  be  made;  and  it  is  doubly  iniporlanl  lor  iis  in 
America  to  realize  these  facts.  Reflecting  that  we  have  a  fresh  soil,  a 
peculiar  climate,  new  material  needs  and  resources,  an  inventive  turn 
of  mintl,  an  ambitious  temper,  and  a  heritage  of  mingled  blood,  we 
feel  that  we  may  some  day  arrive  at  a  new  phase  of  architecture, 
distinctively  our  own.  But  this  can  happen,  in  souk;  distant  to-mor- 
row, only  if  we  meet  as  well  as  we  possibly  can  the  practical  necessities 
of  to-day. 


Wl^yi"'' 


THli  CHOIR,  LOOKING   liAST. 


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THE  LIBRARY 

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